


Nightwing and Flamebird

by Mustardlover16



Series: Nightwing and Flamebird [1]
Category: Batman - Fandom, Batman and Robin, DC Comics, Nightwing - Fandom, Robin - Fandom
Genre: Dick/Dami, Gen, batfam, batfamily, fluff and plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-04 16:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12172959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mustardlover16/pseuds/Mustardlover16
Summary: When Damian decides he's fed up being partnered with The Bat, he seeks the help of his former partner and adoptive brother, Dick Grayson. The two soon realize that renewing their partnership isn't going to be as easy as they hoped. Other batfam cameos. Mulitchapter. Plot AND brotherly fluff. Rated for mild language.





	1. Chapter 1

Nightwing ran along the top of an A frame roof, the balls of his feet padding lightly as he propelled himself forward, his balance, as ever, superb. He was in the Northeast part of Bludhaven where all the hoity toities lived. You'd never see it said like that in a travel brochure for Blud (mainly because there were no travel brochures for the stinky, broken down city) and Nightwing usually didn't patrol here, because it was where police presence was highest, but he had a little bit of business up here and the flat topped roofs found in the rest of the city were much less fun to run across. They took no balance, required little effort or finesse. Here, if he just closed his eyes and stepped, one foot in front of the other, he could almost pretend he was on a tightrope, many, many years ago under the big top tent of Haley's circus.  
Just as Nightwing did so, a loud, adolescent voice called from behind, "Busy, Nightwing, or should I come back when you're done idling uselessly?"  
Shaking the memories from his head with a sigh, Nightwing turned to face Robin-Damian Wayne his adoptive younger brother and former partner, when Dick had donned the cape and cowl.  
"Robin, as much as I'd love a little bat-family reunion, I'm kind of in the middle of work right now." Nightwing said, hoping he was firm but not harsh.  
"Is that what passes for work these days? Standing around sniffing the flowers or whatever it is you were doing for the 5 minutes I spent watching you from the balcony across the street?"  
"Always a slave driver, aren't you?" Nightwing chuckled. His slow going, quasi night off was officially over. It wasn't that he wasn't glad to see Damian-quite the opposite, in fact. The two had grown quite fond of each other in their time as Batman and Robin together and Dick was silently thrilled that Damian had come to pay him a visit. As with most relationships in the bat-fam, feelings ran deep but silent and under many layers of stoicism, sarcasm, and secrecy.  
Damian had not replied, deigning Dick's statement frivolous and without much reason to respond so Nightwing prompted, "What can I do for you, Robin?"  
"I need to talk to you." He replied briskly.  
"Yeah, I gathered that by my awesome powers of deduction." Again, Dick received no response. "I have a few cameras and bugs to place. You can either come along with me or meet me at my place."  
"Although both sound dull, I will accompany you on your business. Clearly you are in need of backup, if my observations thus far are indicative of anything."  
"Sounds like a plan, little man." Nightwing chuffed. Dick actually missed Damian's abrasive nature every once in awhile- though mostly irritating, Damian was almost always honest and straightforward, which was sometimes refreshing in a life of masks.  
Deferring to Dick, as it was Nightwing’s city, Robin followed closely behind his former partner a small smile that was mostly smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.  
“I need eyes on all angles of this building and a couple ears on the inside. I’ll place the bugs if you can handle the cameras outside.”  
“Of course I can handle it, Ri-Nightwing,” Damian overcompensated for his near error with a loud scoff and a rather sassy flick of his cape.  
Dick watched Damian for a minute as he gauged the proper angles and heights and then scaled the wall of a building opposite the the one they were surveilling, deftly placing the penny sized camera in the exact same spot Dick would have, had he been alone. Smiling to himself, Nightwing leapt from his building, landing on the roof of the target building-the suspected home base of operations for a rather fatal line of designer drugs flooding the streets and bloodstreams of Bludhaven’s most prestigious.  
Bellying up to the edge of the roof, Nightwing dropped his head over, scanning for the window he knew was close by, just one of a long line of windows just like it. It was one of those small rectangular windows placed high into the walls of industrial buildings, meant to let in light-not people. Too bad for drug runners, they were up against a world class acrobat. Using a small knife he always had tucked in his boot, Nightwing sliced the small window pane from its wooden frame, placing the glass on the ledge he was currently resting upon.  
With his trademark confident smirk and a lurch of muscles, he flipped from where he lay above the window and ducked through the small opening, perfectly pointed feet first.  
Dick dropped silently to a support beam about 6 feet below him, eyes scanning for his next point of contact before his feet even touched down. The building he was in, a large open storage facility, was empty of people- of course, he had confirmed this before he had entered, but it was always nice when he got what he expected to get. Though the high roofed building had three or four office spaces in the east corner, none of them had ceilings, making access to them a virtual trip to the candy store. Aside from the four small office rooms, the rest of the large space was an open floor plan. The wall opposite the offices was lined with many cardboard boxes stacked on wooden palates-most likely the drugs they had already cooked up and/or the supplies to make said drugs, but that wasn't what Dick was after tonight.  
Making his away across his beam, Dick headed for the offices. If his previous surveillance was right, the big guy in charge-Axel Devlin-had the office closest to the center of the building and his finances guy-Elliot Mayfield-was in the next room over.  
Dick made quick work of placing the bug- both a listening device and remote access device allowing him (via his lovely friend, Barbara, AKA Oracle) free reign over Mayfield’s computer. Snapping a few pictures of the paperwork left out on the desk on his way out, Nightwing made sure everything was placed exactly as it had been when he entered. A running start and a well placed foot on the back of a heavy wooden arm chair and Dick was launched over the wall and into Devlin’s room where he repeated the same routine. A quick leap from the top of the wall dividing the rooms, up into the beams and Dick was wiggling out onto the roof once more.  
Dick was back in the cool night air and replacing the window within minutes.  
“Took you long enough.” Robin was once again behind him, his characteristic criticism hanging in the air.  
“You really take the fun out of a family reunion, you know that?” Dick asked, reaching over and ruffling Damian’s hair despite knowing he didn't like it. Or maybe because Damian didn't like it. Hey, the kid was a little annoying.  
“I’m not here for fun, Nightwing.” Hands on his hips, Damian scowled up at Dick, but something wasn't quite right. Maybe his nose wasn't scrunched quite right or his eyebrows weren't close enough, Dick wasn’t sure what alerted him, but it didn't really matter. All that mattered was that something wasn't quite right with Damian enough so that he was here, in Bludhaven asking for help without asking.  
“Course not. Alright, let’s go.”  
It was a quick jog to the one of Nightwing’s many safe houses- okay, safe house was being generous. Dick did have quite a few safe houses, but this one, on the corner of Elm and Pine, was not one of them. Safe houses require a lot of paperwork, hoops and clever disguising to keep hidden from wandering eyes-mid sized buildings that seem to stay eternally empty in prime real estate locations? Not very under the radar. So, in addition to a few safe houses he had managed to acquire, Nightwing, with the help of Cyborg and The Bat, had created what Dick liked to call “security closets” which of course only prompted several gay jokes from Jason after he found out. His security closets were essentially that-6’x6’ segments of real estate, essentially large janitorial-like supply closets chock full of medical supplies, extra weapons and a virtually impenetrable door (in the likely event that he needed to duck into one for safety), erased from the blueprints of buildings and tucked into allies, corners, behind dumpsters or old phone booths.  
Anyway, this was the particular “security closet” where he had stashed his Motorcycle. The boys shucked off their uniforms, stashed them in the saddlebag of his bike and changed into their civvies- just another of the various supplies Dick and been smart enough to stash. His shirts were really big on Damian, but it would only be a short ride on the freeway and then Damian could change into clothes Dick kept just in case his favorite little brother decided to spend the night, which he did on occasion.  
The two boys rode the elevator up to Dick’s penthouse apartment in silence.  
Once into the spacious, open floor apartment, Dick played perfect host; Alfred would never let him hear the end of it if he ever heard Dick had been inhospitable. “Dami, you want anything to drink? Tea, juice, soda? I’ll be whipping up some tacos for dinner, if you're in the mood.”  
“Tea sounds fine.”  
“Alright,” Dick affirmed, becoming ever more suspicious of Damian’s behavior. Setting a pot on the stove to boil, Dick followed Damian into the living room just off the kitchen, nestled between the master bed and bath and the guest room. Damian stood next to the couch, facing the wall of windows which looked out onto the city. Damian was busy fiddling with something that was resting on the couch. Just as Dick was about to inquire what he was up to, a black and white cat streaked around Damian and past Dick into the guest bedroom.  
“What the-” Dick cursed, ducking away from the fleeing fur ball. “Damian what the hell is the cat doing in my apartment?”  
Turning, Damian responded, “I couldn't very well leave Pennyworth at the cave with father and the old man.”  
“You go on trips and leave him behind all the time, Damian.” Dick narrowed his eyes, hands resting firmly at his hips. “Out with it, Damian. What aren’t you telling me?”  
“I’m moving in, Grayson.”


	2. Chapter 2

"You're what?" Dick's voice was practically a screech.

"Have you gone hard of hearing, Richard? I said I'm moving in." Damian clicked his tongue the way he often did when he was annoyed, but it sounded rather forced, counterfeit.

Shaking his head, Dick placed his hands on Damian's shoulders, steering him toward the bar stools that sat against the kitchen island. "Sit." He commanded the young boy, maneuvering to the opposite side, so he could face the boy.

Damian, not usually one to follow orders, pulled out one of the 50's diner style bar stools which were topped with red vinyl, the chrome sparkling as if newly polished.

"Start talking, Dami." Dick's voice was firm but open to understanding. Clearly, Damian was struggling with something and reaching out to Dick for help. Dick was loathe to turn away a kid who was normally so desperate to be independent, self reliant to a fault.

"Don't call me Dami, Richard. You know I'm not fond of nicknames." Dick only shot him a reproving look over the tea kettle, as he poured a cup of Earl Gray, Damian's personal favorite thanks to a certain British butler with a love for tea.

Pulling the cup towards his end of the granite countertop, Damian 'humphed' and took a loud sip from his tea. He waited until Dick had returned from the fridge, where he had snagged a beer, and rested his forearms on the countertop, undivided attention aimed at the latest Boy Wonder.

Though the Son of the Demon would never admit it, Damian was always silently grateful for Grayson for the very reason that was staring him in the face at that very moment- unlike any of the other adults Damian had encountered in his life, Grayson never seemed to be too busy for him. He never shoved him aside, or planned his life for him. He never directed any less than his full attention toward the boy, when Damian truly needed it. And, Damian thought a bit ruefully, he never shoved any of his own agendas or belief systems onto Damian, a very unique quality in adults, or so it seemed from where Damian sat.

"Father has become insufferable since you left the cave. He won't let me go out on my own, tracks my every move, insists that I train constantly and has some inane belief that I should be attending school, although I'm smarter than any school teacher he could possibly find for me."

"You mean he's being Bruce?" Dick asked, a slight humor glossing his voice.

"It isn't funny, Richard. He doesn't trust me to be Robin. He questions every move I make, scrutinizes every decision I make. I can't reach for my belt without him shouting at me." Damian grits his teeth, biting back at the acidic taste creeping up the back of his throat.

"I hate to say it, bud, but he did that to all of us. It's just the way he is. I know it sucks." Dick said, head hanging a bit. He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at his young compatriot.

"No. It's different. He's harder on me. He-" Damian met his adoptive brother's eyes for a moment, then let his drop to where his fingers played idly with the handle of the tea cup. Dick knew that up until this point, Damian had been letting off steam. Whatever he was about to say next was the real problem. "He doesn't trust me like you do."

"Dami…" Dick starts, his heart aching for the young man in front of him. Swiftly, Dick moves to Damian's side of the island, pulling out a stool and plunking himself down face-to-face with him. "Dami, I'm sure that's not true. Maybe you're just reading too much into it. Bruce… He's not an easy guy to get along with."

"Don't trivialize this, Richard. And don't defend him." Damian's voice was full of a venom much stronger than his usual dose. Dick could hear the anger and frustration spilling out of a boy who had already been through so much.

"Okay, I'm sorry, Damian. I'm not trying to make light of this." When Damian refused to look at him, glaring instead at the wall behind the kitchen sink, Dick rapped his knuckles against the young boy's clenched fist, repeating, "Hey. I'm sorry."

Damian turned back, loosening the death grip on his teacup just a bit. "I accept your apology, given that it is sincere."

"It is." Dick affirmed, hiding his amusement at Damian's formal speech and no-nonsense verbiage. It reminded him of a certain red-headed Tameranian whom he was very fond of.

"Father doesn't trust me. How am I ever supposed be Robin if I'm never allowed to make my own decisions- either as Damian or as Robin? At least with mother and grandfather I could expect that they trusted my judgment, when it came to a fight."

Dick nodded, rather than voice what had actually popped into his mind which was yes, but your mother and grandfather were training you to be an assassin.

Damian gulped down the rest of his tea before standing up on the chrome ring which served as the footrest of his bar stool, reaching across the counter for the kettle and refilling his cup.

"Okay, so dad doesn't trust you. How does that translate to you becoming my new roommate?" Dick questioned once Damian was seated again.

"You trust me." Damian stated simply, as if this were answer enough.

"Of course I do, kiddo." He said, ignoring the sneer on the little Wayne's face that the moniker induced.

"I want to be your partner again." Damian said it and it felt to both of them as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. The statement hung in the air, silencing everything around it, muffling even the soft gurgle of plumbing, the quiet murmur of the air conditioner.

"You...my…" Dick was at a loss for words.

"So far, you've been my favorite partner," Damian whispered softly, his eyes anywhere but Dick, as he quoted his own words from months before, after their Father had come back from the dead, dissolving their partnership as the Bat and the Bird.

"We were the best." Dick finished, reciting the words that had brought him both great joy and great pain, when they had first been spoken to him

Damian, nodded, staring a hole into the sleeve of the oversized pullover sweater that Dick had given him back in the "security closet" he was so proud of.

Nodding to himself, Dick decided then and there. "We still could be, Dami. We still are." The look of surprise that crossed Damian's face brought a triumphant smile to Dick's.

"Does that mean-" Damian scarcely had time to finish his question before the laptop sitting on the glass topped coffee table began to ring.

The two boys lock eyes from their seats on the bar stools; they both know who was making the video call from the other end of the line.

Tension crept into Grayson's shoulders, locking his muscles painfully. This was not going to be a fun conversation with Bruce.

"Damian, go ahead and take a shower. There are towels and toiletries in the guest bath, you remember where everything is, right? I'll go ahead and talk with the old man," Damian started to protest but Dick intervened, "Go on, Damian, I got this. I trust you, right? So you gotta trust me. I've gone more than a couple rounds with Bruce. I can hold my own. I will."

Damian stared straight into the clear crystal blue of Dick's eyes then nodded solemnly, as if wishing him well before a battle they both knew he could lose.

Dick snatched the laptop from the sofa without breaking stride, headed for the sliding glass door which leads to a small balcony. An acrobat, once a member of an act called 'The Flying Graysons' living on the 15th story of an apartment building? Of course he bought a balcony.

Throwing himself haphazardly into a deck chair, Dick opened the laptop and punched in the passcode, on edge before he even clicked the 'Receive Call' button. Dick dragged the mouse, hovering the cursor above the button and heaving in one last gulp of fresh, crisp, high altitude air before accepting the video call.

The face of Bruce Wayne flared to life on the screen. He was halfway into the batsuit, pants, bat-emblazoned top and belt already on, but cape unclasped and cowl clenched in his hand. "Dick. I know he's with you. Tell him he's to come back immediately, no stops. I'm sending the plane to pick him up."

"Wow, nice to see you too, dad. My day has been great, how about yours?" Dick said through gritted teeth, already regretting the choice to pick up the call.

"I'm not in the mood for games, Dick." A well practiced steel entered his voice, meant to intimidate.

"Yeah, and maybe that's your problem, Bruce." Dick was well used to the growl Bruce adopted when wearing the cowl, and was almost entirely immune, often to his own detriment. But today it wasn't his own detriment Dick was worried about, so he forged on. "Look, I'm not in the mood to play around either, Bruce, so let me get straight to the point. Damian came to me today. He's pissed and upset about how you've been treating him, and, if I'm being quite honest, I don't blame him." Bruce's jaw twitched in irritation, but he said nothing. "Damian has asked to live with me, to be my partner again, and I've told him he could."

"Of all the utter crap I've heard, Dick. What the hell are you thinking? What the hell is he thinking? And what gives you the right to just grant him permission? News flash, Dick, he's my son, not yours." Bruce wasn't really mad- yet. His outburst was a calculated move meant to judge resistance, hostility, engineered to his benefit. Of all of his adoptive father's tricks, this was the one Dick had always hated the most- the manipulation, the deceit.

"Dad, you and I both know that Damian is different. He's not like normal kids. He's not like any of your other Robins, not any of your adopted kids. He was raised differently, trained differently. The values he was raised with, the environment he grew up in… I understand why you're hesitant to let him make his own decisions." Dick dragged a hand through his hair roughly, trying to gather his thoughts. "But he's learned a lot from you, and Alfred. Maybe even a bit from me. And he deserves to be treated with respect. He needs to know that you trust him. That's all he wants. That's what he needs, Bruce."

"I don't need parenting advice from someone barely old enough to drink." It was a low blow, but Dick wouldn't allow it to bother him. That was what it was intended to do and he knew that deep down, Bruce didn't mean it. Bruce, like much of the hoard of side kicks he had taken on, had a rough childhood which manifested itself in adulthood through an unwillingness to deal with emotions head on. Instead, he chose to repress them, push them aside. Dick, having been raised by the man, knew this. Thankfully, he hadn't fallen down the same path.

"No, dad, you don't. You were great to me," Dick says, being honest. "You raised me so that I wouldn't have to go through what you went through, so that I wouldn't walk down the path that you were forced to walk. And I appreciate that. I always will." Dick shakes his head, gazing out at the Bludhaven skyline for a moment before returning his gaze to this father's, on the screen.

"The biggest difference between you and me is that you fight because of the darkness that exists in the world. I fight because of the light. You did that for me, you taught me that." Dick sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Damian has seen a lot of that darkness in his short life. He deserves to see a little light, don't you think?"

"He's a lot to manage, Dick. He needs a close eye." Bruce's voice had lost the edge, held none of the calculation or malice that it had held earlier.

"That's the problem you're running into, Dad. He doesn't need to be managed. He needs to be allowed to figure out who he is. All his life he's been told what he is, who he is." Son of the Demon, Heir to the Demon, Son of the Bat, heir to the Cowl, Damian Al Gul, Damian Wayne. The poor kid didn't know where the life others envisioned for him ended and where he began. Dick couldn't imagine what it was like. Despite everything Dick had gone through since the death of his parents, Dick had always been able to cling to who he was- Richard John Grayson, A Flying Grayson, an acrobat, a son, a lover of people and life.

Bruce adjusted his gloves, pulling them higher up on his arms, though they were already as high as they went. "He's not like you Dick. Damian is different he-"

"He deserves a chance to discover himself. As Damian and as Robin. You forget that he and I worked together while you were off playing dead, Bruce. I know Damian just as well as you do. Maybe even better. I'm not saying this to piss you off, I'm just being candid."

"Say you're right. What are you going to do? You have a full time job as a cop and your nighttime escapades. Who's going to look after Damian?"

"You act as if I've never done this before. I ran the titans for years, I played Wayne Corp. executive by day and cowl by night. I don't have all the answers right now, but I believe with everything I am that this is the right thing to do by Damian. And I know that you and I both want the best for the kid."

Bruce said nothing, jaw clenching as he tried to take everything in. Both men were silent for a long time. Dick had no idea what Bruce's feelings were on the matter, other than that Bruce generally disagreed with the idea. Bruce was already a hard read, add a few hundred miles and a computer screen and Dick had no idea what was running through the older man's head. All Dick knew was that, on some level, Bruce knew that he was right, even if he didn't want to admit it.

A voice somewhere to Bruce's right said something that Dick couldn't make out, but he knew that it would be Alfred, giving Bruce the advice he needed, whether or not he liked what was going to be said.

Bruce looked off screen, nodding once at Alfred, then turned back to the camera and screen. "He can stay with you for a month. Consider it a trial period, to see how it goes. He'll be allowed to live with you and work with you, at night. However, I do have some conditions." Bruce said, all business. Despite his stoic facade, Dick knew that the situation was hurting Bruce. Though outwardly he had always asserted that The Batman worked alone, he and everyone else knew that he suffered when he was without a partner.

"Damian will be required to call me once every two weeks, and he'll have to visit once a month, at the very least, so that I can assess his training. And, despite all his declarations of brilliance, he will receive schooling online. I'll have some courses sent to him that he can get started on."

"Alright," Dick agreed, excited and surprised at the outcome.

"Also… Alfred has requested that you and he come for a family dinner, at least monthly, though he feels that twice a month would not be too much to ask." Dick laughed softly. Although Dick had no doubt that Alfred wanted family dinners, he knew that Bruce was secretly very invested in this condition as well.

"That only sounds fair." The two men nodded at each other, a comfortable silence falling between them. "Hey, thanks for this, Dad. I really think this is going to be good for him. Do you want to talk to him?"

Bruce hesitated for a split second then answered, "No, I'll call at the end of the week."

"Alright. I'll talk to you later, Dad." Dick said, a contentedness settling over him like a warm blanket at the end of a very long, very exhausting day.

Bruce nodded and almost hung up when he looked back, suddenly, as if he was being compelled to say something to Dick despite himself. "Dick. I know I don't say it a lot but… You were a good kid. You are. You're the best of us and…" Bruce sighed, making real eye contact with Dick for the first time that night. "And I'm proud of you. Remember that, will you, son?"

"Yeah dad. I will. Thanks for telling me." Dick signed off and closed his laptop, off to deliver the good news to his once again partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated. Let me know what you think of the characterization so far! Any thoughts, questions or comments?


	3. Chapter 3

Damian awoke to the loud pounding of his obnoxious brother's fists on the bedroom door. The previous night came flooding back to him. His brother had come in from the patio, beaming like an idiot. And he had… what? Damian had a vague recollection of what happened but… but if what he thought happened really did happen, he would never live it down. Damian flopped down onto the mattress, head spinning and trying to recall.

"Damian, the band is back together." Dick had yelled, pumping his fist in the air victoriously.

"Father actually agreed?" Damian had been caught somewhere in between excitement, shock and relief.

"This Dynamic Duo is officially reunited!" Dick announced again, laughing giddily. Then what? What had he done? Surely not…

For a second all Damian could do was stand there, in the doorway of the guest room, Dick's Bludhaven Police Department sweatshirt still hanging loosely off his shoulders, mouth agape, mind blank. Then suddenly he was dashing across the room...Had he really launched himself over the couch?... and into the waiting arms of Dick Grayson who had picked him and and twirled him around like a child.

Damian groaned. It had definitely happened. And Dick was definitely never going to let it go.

"Damian! It's time to get up!" Dick's voice was not muffled enough as it floated through the bedroom door- his bedroom door, at least for now.

Groaning again, Damian threw the sheets to the end of the bed, where he had kicked his comforter the night before. He didn't like all the weight associated with a comforter that large. It dampened his senses, covered them in a thick, protective layer of cotton which made shifts in the air, strange noises and other indications of attack much less concerning to his sleeping self.

Wearing the pajamas that Dick always had stored in the dresser in his guest room, Damian padded, barefoot to the kitchen where he found his brother munching on a bowl of Fruit Loops.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty." Dick said around a mouthful of cereal and milk. Dick, very aware of Damian's reluctance toward displays of emotion, had decided against mentioning the very heart-warming hug he had received the night before. Damian Wayne wasn't afraid of anything. Besides the mortal embarrassment he would feel if anyone knew he had acted like a kid for two seconds and hugged his brother. Dick rolled his eyes, thinking to himself, yeah, the apple doesn't fall far from the emotionally stunted tree.

Dick poured the few remaining soggy Fruit Loops and sugary milk into his mouth before placing the bowl in the sink with a hearty gulp. "Alright, Damian. I have a 10 hour shift today, so I should be back at six," Dick said, pulling his duty bag from the floor and doing a cursory check to make sure all his equipment and uniform pieces were present. "That's assuming nothing big happens near end of shift, so fingers crossed, I should be back in time to make us a quick dinner before we clock in for my other job." Dick said with a wink.

"In the meantime, what am I supposed to do?" Damian asked. Typical forms of entertainment tended to bore Damian and ten hours was a long time to occupy oneself.

"Dad emailed you the links to some online classes he's requiring you to take, as a part of this arrangement." Dick said, knowing that this was the exact opposite of what Damian wanted to hear.

"But-"

"I know how smart you are, kiddo, but everybody's gotta put in the time. Dad assured me they were plenty advanced so you wouldn't be too bored. Other than that I left some links open on my laptop. I've left you some homework of my own."

"Grayson-" Damian growled, clearly unenthused with Dick's news.

"Hey, you want to be my partner in crime-fighting? Just like with Dad in Gotham, you can't just jump in. I left you some maps of the city, information about the different neighborhoods, the types of crime that are most common here, that sort of thing. You want to fight for Blud? You gotta know Blud."

Crossing his arms but scowling slightly less, Damian relented. "I suppose that is a reasonable caveat."

"Caveat. Good word," Dick winked again, throwing the duty bag over his shoulder. It was a BPD standard issue black duffle bag with pockets aplenty and GRAYSON printed across it in big, white block letters. Every officer had one, to carry their uniforms and equipment in on their way to and from work.

Dick called the elevator with a jab of the button. Upon entering, he turned around and held the door, to impart one last bit of information to his new housemate before heading into work. "Oh, the fridge is fully stocked if you get hungry. I have plenty of fruits in veggies in the lower bin. I may even have a little bit of tofu left from the last time the Titans came over and BB decided to cook. Call if you need help with anything."

"I won't need help with anything." Damian said, matter of factly, but not rudely.

"But if you do." Dick made a fake phone with his hand by extending his pinkie and thumb, then lifted it toward his ear and shook it. The elevator doors closed and Damian was alone in the home of Richard Grayson.

Hours later found Officer Grayson on the south side of his precinct taking the statement of a woman who's bike had been stolen from the rack outside her favorite coffee shop. It was hot outside and Dick was sweating bullets under his kevlar vest. The distressed woman had no idea what brand or model her bike was, let alone the serial number but Dick still did his duty, taking her statement despite knowing she would never see her bike again.

A few miles away, Damian was just as bored but at least more comfortable in the air conditioned apartment. He had already completed the first three lessons of a computer coding class and the the prerequisite reading required for a forensics science course. Damian was considering looking through the documents Richard had left but opted for a baked sweet potato instead.

Damian was in the middle of over-enthusiastically stabbing holes into his selected potato with a fork when a clear bell tone alerted Damian that someone would be soon arriving on the elevator. Grabbing the largest knife, Damian leapt up onto the counter, giving himself the advantage of higher ground.

When the elevator opened, Damian tensed his muscles, ready to slice his way through the home invader. Heart beating fast, Damian drew back his arm only to see Starfire prance through the door in a short baby blue dress carrying a large handbag.

"What are you doing here?" Damian hissed.

"Richard texted me to inform me that you were staying with him for some time. I thought you might enjoy some company."

Damian said nothing. Instead, he ran to his room, snatching his cell phone from the bedside table, dialing Dick's work cell, knowing he was more likely to answer that one.

"Officer Grayson with the Bludhaven Police Department. How can I help you?" Clearly, Dick had not checked his caller ID.

"You sent a babysitter?" Damian snarled vehemently.

"Excuse me for a minute." Dick said to someone on his end of the line. "What's the problem, Damian?

"You sent your girlfriend to check up on me?" Damian was more than fuming. He was devastated. Eight hours after getting the best news of his life, his brother had sent a spy. A keen ache, starting at his heart and spreading outwards overtook him. So much for trust.

"Damian I have no idea what you're talking about. Tell me what's going on." Dick could clearly hear how upset Damian was. "Damian, Kori and I were texting this morning. She asked if she could come over before she and the Ti-" Dick cut himself off before saying anything in earshot of the other cops, "Before she and her friends go on a little trip for a while. I told her you were there but that she could stop by for a while, so I could see her after work."

"She's not here to watch me?" Damian paraphrased, seeming calmer.

"No, Damian. She's just here for a visit."

"Fine. But I won't be sharing my lunch with her."

"I wouldn't ask you to." Dick said, shaking his head. This arrangement might be more work than Dick had originally thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short, little plotless chapter but I'm a sucker for Starfire so I had to bring her in. I think this is going to end up being 9 chapters long, so y'all still have plenty to look forward to


	4. Chapter 4

After his phone conversation with Dick had ended, Damian had resumed making lunch. Taking Dick's laptop with him, he sat on his bed, lunch in his lap and computer opened to the documents Dick had left him.

Starfire had made herself at home, dropping her bag by the couch, discarding her large, floppy sun hat and holo ring on the coffee table. Because the public wasn't aware of Nightwing's secret identity, Dick, adoptive son of billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne really had no reason to know Starfire. Thus, she had to keep her identity a secret, wearing large sunglasses, head scarves or hats to disguise her highly recognizable face and wearing a holo ring that dimmed the tone of her vibrant orange skin.

Damian stayed in his room for the remainder of the day, save for one or two trips to the kitchen to return his plate to the sink and grab a drink. Both times Starfire had attempted conversation. And, both times, Damian had shrugged off her attempts, and sulked back into his room.

At 7:05, Damian heard the tone of the elevator and emerged from his room in time to see Dick waltz through the door calling, "Honey, I'm home!" As if he were on some wholesome family sitcom from the 60's.

"Richard!" The red toned streak that was Starfire flew across the room. The couple were a mess of limbs, as the hug attack had taken Dick off guard and landed him on his butt in the middle of his own kitchen.

"Hiya, Star." He said around tangles of her flaming red hair. Dick had that goofy grin he always got when Star was around; the one that was just slightly higher on the left than on the right and was all teeth and dazed puppy dog eyes.

Damian rolled his eyes. "Brother, I see you managed not to get shot today. Congratulations," Damian said. He really hadn't been worried about Grayson's safety but if he was being quite honest with himself, he was a little jealous of the attention being spent on the alien invader. Of course, he would deny this to the end of the earth if ever accused of such a thing.

Disengaging herself from their floor cuddle, Starfire rose a few inches into the air, her toes hovering just above the floor. Reaching a hand down, she helped Grayson of the floor, grasping his forearm and lifting him with minimal effort.

Dick scrunched his nose in Damian's direction, replying, "Yeah, nothing too interesting today. If I'm being quite honest, it was a bit of a bore." Starfire gave a rather distressed huff to which Dick quickly stated, "Of course boring is not always bad, in my line of work."

"Remind me why you even took the job as a rank and file police officer? Surely someone thinks your meager talents are wasted as a meter maid." Damian asked, opening the fridge and rooting through the shelves, searching for something to munch on.

"First of all Dami," Dick began, swatting at the younger boy's hands and hip bumping the young boy from his spot in front of the refrigerator. "I am not a meter maid. I am a an actual police officer and I do actual police work. Work that I'm very proud to do." Dick explained, throwing his shoulders back, and holding his head high, even as he plucked various items from the fridge, tossing them skillfully behind him onto the counter.

"And second, if I want to be a detective- a real one, with all the respect and authority that go with it, I need to get there just like everyone else. I need to put in the time and the effort. I need to prove that I'm more than just the adopted charity case of some playboy philanthropist."

"I see." Damian nodded. Starfire rubbed Dick's back as she walked past him, heading to the living room and switching on the radio to her favorite music station.

Dick began chopping vegetables- bell peppers, onions and carrots, passing a few peppers and carrots to Damian to munch on and scooping the rest into a pan to sautée.

" 's a large block of cheese on the second shelf from the top, in the fridge. Mind grating it for me?" Dick requested politely.

"Is it local?" Damian interrogated. Damian had gone vegetarian ever ever since a mission had led him and Bruce to a beef slaughtering plant. Dick wasn't quite sure on the details except that Damian had managed to adopt yet another pet out of the deal and lovingly dubbed it "Bat Cow", swearing off meat as he did. Damian had found it a lot harder to swear off dairy however, and had compromised by only touching milk and cheese products that were organic, locally sourced and that used no growth hormones on their animals.

"Yeah I got it from a real pleasant guy at that farmers market I took you to one time." Dick confirmed, pushing around the veggies as they caramelized.

Damian grunted his approval and set to the task he was assigned.

Dick had just began cooking black beans when some sappy Ed Sheeran song blasted out of Dick's surround sound speakers, eliciting an excited squeal from Starfire whom had been softly swaying to music in the living room.

"Oh, Dick, please. You must dance with me. Please." She had her hands clasped in front of her chest and the sweetest smile on her face. Resistance was futile. Dick planted one hand on the kitchen island, cheekily launching himself over it and jogging to her. Before she even knew what was happening Dick was twirling her across the room, spinning and kicking and making quite a display. Laughing, Starfire did the only thing she could. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on as he continued his spastic and exuberant display, meant to charm and entertain. And charm it did.

Starfire wasn't the only one amused by Dick's affectionate display. Though outwardly ignoring the goings on in the living room, Damian was oddly comforted by the domestic spectacle currently playing out mere yards from him. Though slightly nauseating, Damian had the keen sense that this was what a normal, happy family looked like; that this is what he had been missing all his life, without ever realizing it.

By the end of the song, Dick had calmed down and was doing the walking cuddle with Starfire. Their foreheads pressed together, noses touching and eyes closed, the couple were encircled in each other's arms and smiling softly.

As a more rambunctious song blared from the speakers, Dick pecked Star on the lips once, twice and then pulled away, a dopey smile on his face. He had his girl and his little brother, a tasty meal in the making and a successful day at work. What more could he ask for? For once in his life, the cards were in his favor.

The three ate their dinner on the couch. Starfire sat with her back against the arm of the sofa, toes tucked under Dick's thigh, which also happened to be balancing his plate of "Grayson's Famous Black Bean Explosion Nachos". Damian sat to the right of Dick, reviewing the various lessons he had completed that day. The trio were each on either their second or third plate of nachos when Dick received a video call on his laptop.

"That'll be Babs." Dick informed, leaping from his seat and punching keys on the laptop. Soon the large flat screen TV was displaying the contents of Dick's open laptop and Dick was shutting the blinds, a result of lingering Bat paranoia.

"Hey, good looking." Babs quipped as Dick answered the call.

"Back at you, cutie." Dick shot back with his most charming smile.

"I wasn't talking to you, schmutz. I was talking to the saucy redhead on the couch beside you." Babs delivered a heavily exaggerated wink.

Giggling, Starfire waved back. "It is glorious to see you as well, hot stuff." Starfire placed heavy emphasis on "hot stuff" complete with eyebrow wiggle and a blow kiss.

Barbra pretended to catch it before catching sight of Damian. "Oh hey, little man is there too. Damn, Grayson are you having a party without me?"

Dick glanced at Babs, then at Damian and then back at Babs. "It's a long story best left for another time. The end of which is that Damian is going to be staying with me for a bit and we need as much information on that drug ring in the Northeast end of the city as you can get us."

"Then buckle your seats boys, because you're about to get a shit ton of information." Barbara assured, pushing up her glasses and cracking her knuckles.

"As you already know, this is the head of the operation, Axel Devlin." Tapping some keys, a rap sheet photo popped up onto the screen. It depicted a gnarly looking man with long, greasy blond hair and menacing hazel eyes. The guy was scowling in the photo and looked as if he had had one too many swigs of the strong stuff.

"And this..." another photo popped up on top of the first. "...is Elliot Mayfield. Unlike his dashing friend over here, Elliot doesn't seem to have a record. He works at an accounting place up on NE Seqouia. He's no big shot. Has a wife and kids, no known ties to any criminal activity other than this."

"And what is this, exactly?" Damian queried, ready to get to the nitty gritty.

"This, my fine young friend, is a huge drug ring the likes of which have never been seen in this part of the city." Barbara answered, typing once again. "These guys are pumping psychedelics, dissociatives, stimulants and sedatives into to streets of Blud's rich and famous at unbelievably high rates. There are already nine reported deaths linked to this specific brand of designers." Barbara shook her head solemnly.

"How are these guys able to generate so much product? And how are they able to have such variety? Most rings stick to one thing, but these guys seem to be all over the map." This was much bigger than Dick imagined. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

"I'm not sure, but they had to get their start somewhere. I'll continue to look for that. In the meantime, you should know that they're targeting young kids, especially the children of big business types- oil money, corporate clean up crews, military manufactures, the works."

"And the kids are buying this stuff? It's not just being slipped in their morning mocha?"

"Each case that has been reported turned up evidence which suggested these kids are shooting up, lighting up or snorting up this stuff of their own volition."

"Any idea where they keep the money? There's no way you'd be able to get ahold of it is there? Or any real records of all that cash flow?"

"No dice."

"Damn. Alright, is there anything else you've found?"

"Unfortunately not. There has been a bit of activity on those cameras you placed but only the players we already know are involved and nothing incriminating. They haven't moved any product from the warehouse so far as I can tell."

"Keep me posted, would you?" Dick sighed, rolling his neck to stretch the tense muscles there. This was not going to be easy and they were definitely not making the headway on the case that he wanted.

"Always, little bird. Bye Star, Bye Damian." She signed off with a two fingered salute and a small smile.

"We won't be able to get much done tonight, Damian. Why don't we call it a night? I'm off duty tomorrow so we'll come up with a battle plan tomorrow." Damian would normally have protested but he could see the deep exhaustion weighing down Dick's shoulders as he collected the dinner plates and carted them over to the sink.

Damian bid a half hearted farewell to Starfire, as she and Dick made their way towards the elevator. Damian had bigger fish to fry- namely Axel and Elliot, the men who were adding age lines to his brother's already whether worn soul.


	5. Chapter 5

Dick lay in bed that night, head spinning with information about the drug ring which Babs had relayed to Damian, Star and himself. How were they equipped to handle so many drugs? Where was there actual base of operation? There was no way the location he and Oracle had eyes on was where they were manufacturing the drugs. There wasn't enough space, no sign of cooking equipment. And was Axel Devlin the real head of the operation? Sure, he had a track record in the system, but he didn't seem the sort to have the funding to start an operation such as this, nor the brain power, if Dick was being honest.

But of course, that was the very beginning of Dick's questions. Other, harder, more important questions loomed in the back of his skull, buzzing around like a live fuse ready to overload. How was he going to balance his job on the force, his vigilante escapades and taking care of Damian? He hateed to admit it, but Bruce had been right. It was a lot to juggle, even for a circus geek like him. Furthermore, how was he going to integrate Damian into life here? Would he and Bruce have to release a statement saying Damian would be staying with his older brother for the time being? Would they keep it a secret and keep Damian from going in public? Damian would not be happy about that. And that was nothing to say of Robin. That would definitely turn heads in the media once they caught wind of the Boy Wonder working full time in Blud. The press in the sea side city had no qualms about smearing Nightwing every which way they could. Or would Damian have to take on a new identity? Would this one be permanent or would the whole thing fall apart? Would Damian be needing a new suit? How would Bruce feel about all this.

Shit, Dick thought, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. What have I gotten myself into? The best news of the week was that Dick was off for the next two days, barring any major catastrophes that would require all hands on deck over at the PD. Geez. When it rains it freaking pours.

Dick awoke the next morning to the sound of clanking dishes through his closed bedroom door. Confused, Dick rolled over to check his alarm clock, yelping in surprise when he found it reading out 9:35 AM. For a guy who normally woke up at 5 AM every morning, it was enough to cause a small heart attack. Of course, once he had stubbed his toe pulling on a pair of pants and almost fallen headlong into his door, he remembered that he was in fact off for the next two days. With a slightly more relaxed grunt, Dick shucked off the slacks he had just been attempting to put on in favor for a pair of nice, old baggy sweat pants and a loose fitting, well worn t-shirt.

Ready to tackle the day, Dick went to investigate the sounds which had woke him up, opening his bedroom door and padding straight for the kitchen. What he found may have been the cutest slash most bizarre thing he had ever witnessed. Damian-all 4 foot and 10 inches of him-was standing in the middle of what looked to Dick, like the Great British Baking Show. Pots and pans were piled everywhere-some in use, but most dripping remnants of their former contents into the large stainless steel sink. Foodstuff was everywhere, placed on every available surface.

"Uh, hey, Damian. Whatcha doin'?" Dick asked cautiously. This was new ground for Dick.

"It occurred to me that I never thanked you for convincing father to let me stay with you in Bludhaven and work as your partner. On a web search I found that often people make breakfast for people they appreciate. Thankfully cooking is just one of my many talents." Damian said, straightening the overlarge apron he was wearing with much dignity, standing with his shoulders back, as if preparing for an attack. The poor kid seemed to be preparing for criticism. His face was all hard lines and his chin was jutted up in the way it did when he did something rebellious he knew he was going to get in trouble for.

Excited to be able to dole out a bit of the encouragement he knew could be lacking under their former mentor, Dick smiled and extolled, "Wow, Dami. That's really nice of you. Thank you, bud."

Damian's eyes widened slightly before he nodded, pointing with a spatula to the bar stools, indicating that Dick should sit. "Breakfast should be ready in a few minutes. Honestly, Dick was very touched. Damian was often a hard kid to read, always so closed off- basically a complete 180 of Dick himself. He often felt that he and Damian were contrary, not meant to be close but somehow unavoidably so. It was nice to be able to physically see the affection Damian had for him every once in awhile.

The next few minutes were spent in silence. Damian stirred something here. Checked the progress of something there. Dick watched patiently, thinking how cute Damian was every time he kicked at the hem of the apron which, on Damian, was much too long and how he stood on the tips of his toes to reach the overhead cabinets or check on the contents of the pans sitting on the back burners. Really, he wasn't sure anything other than Starfire's tiny little kitten sneezes was cuter than the sight before him now.

Before long, a large omelet was placed before him. "Mushrooms, green onions, red peppers, cheese and," Damian grimaced before continuing, "bacon."

"Just the way Alfred makes it for me. That's awesome, Damian, thanks for remembering."

Damian held up a flat hand, signaling that he wasn't finished, pulling a sheet from the oven, Damian procured three delicious smelling pastries, setting them delicately on a plate. "And Strawberry Strudel."

"Ah, that must be your mother's secret recipe, hmm?" Dick teased.

"Don't be ridiculous, Richard. As a member of the league of assassins she has no time for-" Damian considered Dick, eyes roving the older man's face before asking, "Ah. That was one of your ill conceived jokes, wasn't it?"

Dick laughed. "Yeah, it was."

The rest of the day saw the boys hard at work in the high loft apartment. By noon the boys had moved to the four person dining table in the far corner of the apartment, on the far side of the kitchen, crime reports and crime maps spread across all available surfaces, even tacked on the wall. By three the blinds were shut and the boys were on the couch with a bowl of popcorn as Dick took Damian through each of the dossiers he had compiled on the underworld of Bludhaven, with a heavy emphasis on those Dick suspected to be involved in the current drug ring investigation.

By 8:30 that night Dick and Damian lay on their stomachs on the carpeted floor surrounded by empty pizza boxes, costume sketches, fabric swatches and various pieces of uniforms both old and current, Dick's and Damian's. Dick's arms were crossed underneath a pillow, which his chest and head were propped up on. His eyes were closed, the fringe of his hair slowly sliding down his forehead as he snoozed softly. Damian suspected that Dick hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night. Dick had emerged from his room that morning much more subdued than was typical of him, dark circles under his usually bright and alert blue eyes.

Damian knew that Dick's restlessness had a least something to do with him being there. Dick always worried more than necessary. Damian agreed with the way Barbara had once put it, "Dick tends to carry the weight of the world. He's the kind of guy who will shoulder the next guy's burden, just so the other guy can walk a little easier."

One last glance at his exhausted older brother and Damian's mind was made. Stealthily, the boy quickly inventoried and collected what he needed for his mission. A pair of old black boots, trimmed with red from Jason's days as Robin. Damian's own black pants from the robin uniform, a Nomex-Kevlar weave meant for combat, as well as a long sleeved black shirt of the same material which Damian wore under his Robin tunic-like top. A black tactical belt that Dick just so happened to have lying around, already stocked with the former contents of his yellow Robin belt. To complete the outfit, Damian snatched up a red eye mask Tim had apparently left at Dick's one time, before switching to the much more ridiculous cowl he was now disgracing.

Dawning his makeshift uniform, Damian spared one last glance for his brother before leaping from the balcony and into the night, ready to begin. His mission: prove to Richard Grayson that he had made the right choice in taking on Damian as his new partner. Plan: to prove to the first ward of the Wayne household that Damian was worth keeping around.

Thanks to his unparalleled memory, Damian found his way back to the warehouse he had found Dick staking out, just two nights ago. Dick and he had talked that day and both were convinced that this was definitely not their base of operations, but merely a secondary base which acted essentially as a storage and dispersal facility.

Rather than stay on the roof across the street, Damian made his way to the building just next to the warehouse. Following his instincts, Damian stopped where he had a view of the back of the building which had a large garage door meant for loading and unloading goods. The sun had set about an hour ago, so Damian was sure he wouldn't have to wait long before the activity picked up. The former Boy Wonder was in luck. An hour and a half into his stake out, a semi truck pulled into the alley leading toward the loading doors. It drug with it a trailer bed, stacked upon which was a large steel cargo container the likes of which were usually seen at docks on massive barges.

Damian raised an eyebrow, made sure to snap several pictures of the vehicle and its load and was careful to memorize the make, model and plate number of the semi. This certainly was a new development. Neither Dick nor Damian had considered that this ring was managed from somewhere else, nor that the drugs weren't made locally, but if the foreign script on the side of the shipping container were to be believed… Dick and Oracle may have been barking up the wrong tree for months, had they been searching for local sources and facilities.

Damian used the lenses in his the mask to zoom in on the white writing on the side of the shipping container. Unfortunately this mask had not been used in sometime and therefore had not been upgraded. Without the ability to cross reference the writing with other samples, Damian could only be about 79% sure that the script was a language called Dari, most commonly spoken in Afghanistan. Damian had been taught many languages but he had yet to learn this one. I guess I know my lesson plan for tomorrow he thought a bit ruefully.

A man hopped out of the truck, dialed a number Damian couldn't make out from this distance and said a few words before ending the call. Before long, the garage door was opening and three or four men exited- probably dock workers by day, judging by the well worn work clothes and the callouses on their hands. Again, Damian took note of any distinguishing features and snapped picture of the men, for a future consult with Oracle's facial recognition software. The men unloaded several boxes from the truck, then proceeded to load several more strained looking pallets of boxes into the shipping container. Without getting closer and risking giving his position away, Damian wasn't able to hear what the men were saying, but he could guess by their gestures and the way the semi driver examined a map that they were discussing the driver's next drop location.

Before long, the dock workers went back into the warehouse, closing the garage door behind them. The semi driver climbed back into his rig and started it up with loud puff from the exhaust pipe.

Without hesitation, Damian leapt from his perch on the roof onto the top of the shipping container as it passed by, landing without a fear and, most importantly, without a sound. Damian lay flat on his stomach, calculating his next move while simultaneously memorizing the route to his unknown destination.

A twenty minute drive weaving through the least busy streets in town and the truck was soon slowing to a stop on the northern most edge of the city- mainly county roads and a state highway headed out of town.

Damian peeked over the edge carefully, trying to get a bearing on his surroundings. The semi he had snagged a ride from had stopped at an old Highway 'Haven, a local Bludhaven chain of gas station. This one appeared to have been out of business for sometime, it's 18 gas pumps dusty from disuse, weeds peeking their way through every crack and crevice in the concrete they could find. The building which had at one time held the gas stations, restrooms, mini-deli and pay registers hadn't fared much better. All its windows were boarded up, trash lay heaped in the corners of the building. Of course, Damian had learned a long time ago that not everything is as it appeared to be. A middle age woman of Asian descent pushed open one of the boarded up doors, making her way to the driver who stood dutifully still on the driver's side of his rig.

"Am I to assume your previous delivery tonight was a success?" Her voice was steady and calm and held all the authority of a matronly queen.

"Yes, that's right, Ma'am. Both delivery and pick up went without a hitch." The driver clutched nervously at his Bludhaven Whaler's baseball cap.

"And everything made it off the Height's docks?" The height's docks? Damian stored and prioritized that piece of information for later. Dick would almost definitely know which dock she meant.

"Every last box. No sign of trouble, just like you said."

"Very good. Unload what you have at the back and meet me back inside for your payment."

"No problem." The man replied, sounding relieved that the encounter had gone well. The guy jumped back into his rig and pulled it around back, where a set of metal doors already sat open, ready to receive his shipment. Again the man hopped out and opened the shipping container, taking care with a box nearest the door of the container. Once the man had stepped inside to set down his haul, Damian jumped from his spot on the container to the roof of the old convenience store.

Damian pulled the grappling gun from his belt, removing the grappling hook and screwing off the head which held the hook. Reaching into a pocket on the left of his belt, he retrieved and attached another head, with a much smaller opening and a much longer barrel. Searching another pocket, Damian divested a 'reconnaissance batarang' of it's recording equipment- a very small, very powerful camera, a listening device and a tracker- and loading said device into the barrel of his makeshift gun. Damian squeezed the trigger, smiling when his ammunition hit it's mark, the awning above the gas station pumps.

From it's spot on the awning, the camera would have full view of the front of the building from which the woman had appeared and would catch audio recordings from any conversations held under or near the awning itself. And, without the added heft of a honed batarang, the device would most likely go unnoticed, seeing as it was less than the size of a nickel.

Damian set out to the back end of the roof. Using a small mirror, he was able to observe the man and woman near the back door without peeking his head over the edge of the roof. Damian scurried nearer to the door, desperate to hear their conversation. The more information he could relay to Dick, the prouder his older brother would be, and the more sure he'd be about their newest arrangement.

"Your payment." The woman's voice floated up to Damian. A small scuffing sound alerted Damian that paper money or perhaps an envelope had changed hands.

"Much obliged, ma'am. I hope you and Mr. Minh have been pleased with my services thus far."

An irritated cluck of the tongue. "We were, until just now." The sound of a gunshot jolted Damian, his eyes widening and his heart hammering at the suddenness. "You just had to say his name." The woman chided, as she stepped back into the building and closed the door. Damian peered over the edge, breathing hard. A bullet hole between the eyes and a puddle of blood under his head answered the question Damian had not dared to ask himself. The driver of the semi had been dead before he had even hit the pavement.

Damian ran for for the brush not too far behind the building, wishing as much for the cover of darkness and foliage as for the distance from the scene he had just heard. Branches and weeds clawed at his ankles, scratched at his face as he ran toward and then parallel to the highway, headed back for the city. Things were far worse than Damian and Dick had first imagined. After about a mile of running full tilt on the uneven terrain, Damian found a tree whose branches stretched toward the highway. Picking the sturdiest branch, Damian climbed along it until he sat above the very edge of the highway. The headlights of a Walmart semi were already barreling in his direction, and with a dexterous jump, he was hitching a ride back to the city, to deliver his sombre news.

When the elevator doors opened onto Dick's apartment at about 1:30 that morning, the revealed to Damian a very red eyed, messy haired Dick Grayson. A very angry looking Dick Grayson. Damian stepped off the elevator wearing jeans and a hoodie, backpack no doubt containing his uniform slung over his shoulders. Green eyes met blazing blues as silence reigned throughout the apartment.

It suddenly occurred to Damian that perhaps he should have told Dick where he was going, before he left for the night…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit’s about to hit the fan! Hope you guys are liking it so far.


	6. Chapter 6

Damian was sitting on the couch, arms crossed, face contorted with frustration. He hadn't been allowed to get a word in since he had stepped off the elevator.

Dick paced in front of the coffee table, out of arm's reach of Damian, just in case Dick decided to throttle the kid for being so careless. Back and forth, back and forth. He was trying to release some of the pent up anger and fear so he wouldn't unleash it all on Damian but the stuff just wouldn't leave his system. It was like every muscle in his body was clenched. As if no air was reaching his lungs. No thoughts could puncture through the fog other than oh God what if he's hurt. What if he's…

The fear was more consuming and devastating than any he had ever felt. It wasn't the good, heart pounding, adrenaline inducing, butterflies in the stomach kind of fear like when he leapt off a building. It was cold and numbing and debilitating. And it wouldn't leave.

"Would you stop pacing? You're going to-" Damian was silenced by a searing look from Dick who had stopped pacing and was now facing the twelve year old hero.

"I don't even know what to say." Dick sighed. "Everything that comes to mind just sounds like dad. I could yell, or berate you, but clearly that hasn't been working, 'cause you're here with me instead of with the old man." Dick eyed the lazy boy recliner diagonal to the sofa Damian currently sat on, but decided against it.

Hands on his hips, Dick sighed again. "When you and I were working together in Gotham, we had an understanding, you know? I'm not sure if it was because I was wearing the cowl or what but…" Dick scoffed at himself, realizing how petty and ridiculous he sounded. Damian could see in the set of Dick's shoulders and the way he kept rolling his neck that he was on edge, unsteady. Agitated. Dick made a beeline for the recliner, almost like a wounded animal seeking shelter but when he got there he sat only on the very edge.

"You and Bruce bury your emotion, lock it up. And I respect that, I get why you do that. It maybe even makes what we do easier. But I was never strong enough or tough enough or whatever to do that. I never could." Dick's head slumped into his hands as if he were suddenly exhausted. Maybe he had been the whole time, and he was just now allowing himself to feel it, Damian considered. "Damian… I woke up and I had no idea where you were. You didn't take the suit you knew had a tracker in it-" Dick was referring to the Robin suit, which everyone knew Batman snuck a tracker in every time. "-and you left your cell phone here and you didn't tell me or Babs or anyone where you were going-"

Damian's eyes widened, "Did you call father?" If Dick didn't know any better he'd say that Damian actually sounded a little bit afraid.

"No. I didn't. If you hadn't told me or Oracle where you were going, I didn't think it very likely you would phone up Bruce." Dick was rubbing his forehead with his hand, a self soothing action that Damian had seen may a time before. Dick would soon start running his hands through his hair, a sure sign of stress. "I was worried sick. I went all over the city looking for you, I had Babs scanning security cameras. You were nowhere. Gone." Dick's voice wavered just the tiniest bit and he stopped, biting his lip and gritting his teeth, as if his body had betrayed him. "Damian if you're here, you're my responsibility. And I love that. But it also scares me to death. If something happens to you…" Dick finally looked up from the floor locking baby blues with Damian's brilliant green eyes. "If something happens to you it's on me. My fault. And I don't think I could take that." It sounded selfish to Dick, even as the words came out of his mouth but it was true. He was sure that he wouldn't be able to live with himself if Damian got hurt or worse on his watch.

Suddenly Damian didn't feel so self-righteous anymore. His brother eyes were rimmed red and bloodshot. Despite the fact that Dick had locked his jaw, his bottom lip quivered just the slightest bit. Dick wasn't angry… He was worried. Worried sick. No one had ever been worried sick about his safety- not that he'd seen, anyway.

Suddenly Dick was standing again, solemnly marching to the fridge. Dick was back in front of Damian moments later, back to avoiding eye contact. Dick leaned down, setting a couple of granola bars and a bottle of water in front of the boy. This was as close as he had come to Damian all night and he stayed there for a moment, staring at the water bottle. Then he straightened up once more, with all the spinal severity of a soldier and ordered, "Finish those. When you're done you're going to tell me where you've been and what you've been doing. I'm going to go call Babs and tell her you're back."

Dick disappeared into his room, lifting his phone to the ear even before he shut the door. Damian could just hear, "Yeah, he's fine, Babs…" Before Dick moved too far from the door for Damian to easily hear him.

Damian slapped this forehead with the heel of his hand. Stupid. What had made him think going out without permission would be a good idea? He was just trying to help but… clearly things had not gone over well. Damian snatched one of the bars from the table in front of it, ripping it open and taking an angry bite of it, chewing furiously. When he had finished the first granola bar, Damian reached for the water, downing half the bottle before he even realized what he was doing. Apparently, Damian was more hungry and thirsty than he had thought. How had Dick known what he needed before he had?

Dick reappeared a few minutes later. His eyes were less red now and judging by the droplets of water on the collar of Dick's shirt, he had splashed water in his face. Dick cleared his throat mildly. "Alright, lay it on me. The whole thing."

"I…" Damian blew a deep breath out his nose. The only way this was going to work was if he told Dick everything. And the only way he was going to get through this without heart pounding guilt was to remove himself as far from the situation as he could, emotionally. Damian recited what happened like he was giving a mission report to a superior officer. His tone was crisp, professional and distant. He reported what he saw, heard, and the actions he took.

When finished recounting his tale, Damian repeated the important information- the location of the probable headquarters, the shipping container and foreign writing, suggesting the drugs' origin, and the name which was important enough to have man shot.

When Damian finished he sat back, slouching into the couch. He was suddenly exhausted. More interestingly, however, he felt somewhat...relieved. It was as if a weight he hadn't been aware of was suddenly gone. Dick considered Damian, a touch of his typical softness returning to his gaze. Damian looked drained. Rising from his seat, Dick drifted toward Damian, as if unsure of where he wanted to stop. Dick ended up crouching mere inches from the couch, eye level with Damian's knee. Looking up at the young boy he had so recently taken in, he murmured, "Hey, you gonna be okay tonight?"

Dick was merciful enough not to mention out loud what he was referring to- the shooting that Damian had quasi witnessed. If Dick knew how much the death of the truck driver disturbed Damian, it would tear him up inside, Damian knew. Which was stupid, considering it was clearly not his fault, but, as all of the Bat-family knew, it was in Dick's nature to make things personal, to carry loads not meant for him. Mustering up as much haughtiness as he could, Damian intoned, "Of course, Grayson. Why would you even ask such a trivial question."

Dick seemed almost disappointed at such a response, as if he was hoping for the truth despite fully expecting a lie. "Fine. I'll be in there, if you need me." Dick pointed to his room. That said, Dick expelled a quick breath, knees popping as he lifted himself up. He collected the wrappers and empty water bottle from the table and deposited them in their respective trash and recycling bins by the elevator door. Without another word, Dick made for his bedroom, feet shuffling-whether from exhaustion or emotional distress, Damian knew not.

The plain gray door which led to Dick's room was almost closed when Dick pushed it open once again, eyeing the back of Damian's head as he continued sitting on the couch. "Damian," He called quietly. Damian turned to face him. "You came here asking for trust. Demanding it. I did- trust you… Tonight you broke that trust." Silence fell as his bedroom door clicked shut, leaving Damian with nothing but the sound of his own thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes! The angst is real. Sorry, you guys!!!   
> Let me know what you think so far. I’d love to hear from you!


	7. Chapter 7

Hours later, Damian sat cross legged on the bed that had become his. He had left the curtains open, to allow in the lights of the city and to give his mind something to think about other than how utterly he had screwed up. He had already tried meditating to clear his mind but it was to no avail. Just as he had made up his mind to march into Dick's room and say something- anything- his phone vibrated, indicating a call.

Damian snatched at the phone and read the display. It was Barbara Gordon. Not wanting to be sent on any further guilt trips, Damian considered ignoring it. With a chuff of defeat, Damian slid his thumb against the screen, holding the phone out in front of him. Bab's image appeared, hair pulled into a high pony, wearing what appeared to be Wonder Woman pajamas.

"Barbara." Damian acknowledged.

"Damian." She didn't appear angry or frustrated or even worried. Her blue-green eyes merely stared at his emerald ones, level but unemotional.

"Are you going to tell me why you called or are you just going to stare at me?" Damian challenged, uninterested in whatever game she was playing.

"I just wanted to see for myself that you were okay. Dick said you were home and that you said you were fine."

"And…?" Damian said, searching for the 'but' that he knew was there

"He said something seemed off."

"And you concur?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"I suppose you think I deserve that."

"Judging by the tone of your voice, you certainly think you deserve something." Damian opened his mouth to reply but stopped, jolted by her conclusion. Damian had been raised to assess people, determine their strengths, weakness and abilities, to predict his opponents' every moment. Yet more than anyone Damian had ever met, Oracle seemed to elude his grasp, dancing just outside the line of his complete comprehension.

"Look, Damian. I didn't call to chew you out or berate you or whatever. I'm not your mom or your commanding officer or your babysitter. You're your own person, you're responsible for your own actions, right?" Damian sensed that it was a rhetorical question and so remained silent, allowing Barbara to continue. "That's what you're doing in Bludhaven. Trying to prove to Bruce or Dick or whoever that you're capable of taking care of yourself and making your own choices and being all mature and what not. Fine. I respect that. The quickest way to prove that? Step one: stop acting like you know everything. Newsflash: you don't. Step two: when you screw up, take responsibility for your actions. Don't blame someone else. Don't blame the world or your upbringing. Own up to it and learn from it. That's what Dick would do."

Damian blinked several times. "This has been surprisingly educational." Damian said.

"You're welcome." Babs said, understanding that Damian had come as close to a thank you as he could. The two sat silently for a moment. Barbara could practically see the gears turning in Damian's head. "What's your question?"

"Grayson… He's very upset with me, isn't he?"

Barbara sighed, nodding gently. She suspected it would be something like this. "Yeah, he's a little upset." Bab's confirmed, always a straight shooter. "But he won't be for long. Give him a bit of time. You know how he is, he feels everything externally, he wears his heart on his sleeve. He'll have his feelings and then he'll give you hug and then he'll be back to normal." Damian nodded. "'Night, Wayne."

"Good night, Gordon."

Damian tossed his phone onto the nightstand, leaning back into the soft, inviting pillows and falling into a light but restful sleep.

The next day was quiet but mostly companionable. Dick slept in late, just because he could, making himself a big bowl of cereal once he finally decided to roll out of bed. The boys spent the day on the couch; Dick familiarizing himself with the police reports he knew he would be appearing for in court the next day and Damian fulfilling some of the school work he knew his father to be monitoring. Around 6 that night, both had had enough of their busy work, opting instead to watch the local news for a little bit.

By 7:30 Dick was in the kitchen working on his famous shish kebobs which included mushroom, red and green bell pepper, onion, and chicken, for himself.

8:15 found the boys munching happily on their meals, dining table nixed in lieu of the floor directly in front of the television, their backs to the dining room table. Dick dropped his makeshift kebab stick- formerly a chopstick from Chinese take out- onto his plate, rubbing sticky fingers onto a napkin and turning to the the younger man. "Okay."

"Okay?" Damian wasn't sure what was going on, but the boys had refrained from talking since Dick had soliloquized the night before.

"What were you wearing the other night?" Whatever Damian had been expecting, this certainly hadn't been it. "Go get it, let me see." Dick said, waving his hand toward Damian's bedroom. Damian crossed the flat to his room, emerging almost immediately with an armful of clothes. Dick was up and closing the blinds when Damian dumped his pile on the floor where they had just been sitting, returning to his spot on the floor. Dick too returned to his seat, resting his back against the coffee table, legs extended before him and crossed at the ankles. He plucked at each of the items, inspecting closely and then placing them flat on his lap. "So you're going for red and black. I like it."

Damian plucked the mask from it's resting place on Dick's knee, inspecting it before explaining, "Yes, our father's knack for picking up strays has come in handy with providing me an ample number of choices."

"Yeah, well it looks like you two have that in common," Dick laughed as Alfred the cat brushed against Damian's back before planting himself on the pile of his clothes still resting on Dick's legs.

Wanting Dick to understand, Damian ploughed on, nearly ignoring the cat, save for a quick stroke across his spine. "Your suit is almost completely black, so I did my best to imitate that. I chose the red mask because-" Damian faltered slightly before continuing, "-because your mask is blue."

"And you chose Jason's boots because of the red piping- to match. Cute." Normally Damian would have taken 'cute' as an insult but coming from Dick, he knew it wasn't.

"I was thinking about the story you told me. About how you got your name from Superman- kryptonian mythology. Nightwing was a mythological hero who was rejected by his family and turned to a life of vigilante-ism, fighting for good. I read some of Superman's files in the League's database-" Dick raised an eyebrow at this, knowing full well that Damian didn't have access to League files, but letting it go. "I was reading up on his people's mythology. And while I find most of it to be nonsense, I found one character very interesting."

"Oh yeah? Who's that?" Dick asked, genuinely interested. It was nice to see Damian getting into things that didn't involve following dangerous criminals with no back up and no way to call for help.

"Flamebird," Damian stated. Although his gaze was steady, his voice firm, Dick could hear the slight edge of nervousness entering Damian's voice.

"The goddess?" This question elicited a small gritting of teeth from Damian. "What did you find interesting about Flamebird?" Dick changed courses.

"Flamebird was a minor goddess," He said, skipping over 'goddess' as fast as he could while still uttering it. "She was created by the sun god to constantly reshape the earth. Flamebird's initiative was to burn down what her brother- The Builder- had created, ever forcing him to re-invent, to make better what he had made before."

"She burned everything down?" Dick asked, unsure where this was going.

Damian let out a disdainful snort. Clearly he would have to spell it out for his brother. "She was a force of change for the better. Without her the world would have been in a constant state of stagnation. She was the catalyst which sparked change."

"Good changes- healthy growth," Dick elaborated, finally catching on.

"Precisely." Damian searched his brothers face for any hint disapproval but found none.

"I like it. It's a good sentiment." Dick approved, smiling.

"It occurred to me that perhaps I could do with a little… rebuilding," the younger deliberated quietly. In his agitation he stood and Dick followed suit, setting the cat back on the clothes which remained on the floor. "Perhaps there are still things that I need to learn. Perhaps…" Damian abandoned that train of thought, refocusing on the confused blue eyes searching his face. "I made a mistake- the other night. I should have… I should have done things differently. You are the catalyst for positive change in my life. Perhaps I can be this for others, with your guidance." Damian concluded, feeling slightly foolish. Dicks eyes were wide, lips still and sealed. He shouldn't have said anything. He should go back to Gotham now with as much of his pride as he could pick up off the floor. This whole venture had been foolish.

Damian was shaken out of his thoughts when he felt the hands of his brother on each of his shoulders. Dick was doubled almost in half, knees bent and shoulders slouching so he could be on eye level with the youngest Wayne. Dick locked eyes with Damian, forcing him to look back. Unable to find the words to express his gratitude, Dick instead straightened, pulling Damian into a very tight hug. Instead of protesting like he normally would, Damian allowed Dick to hold him for a few seconds, even going so far as to rest his head on Dick's chest, one arm loosely hung around his brother.

Pulling away, Dick ruffled Damian's hair and made for the backpack which was slung around the back of one of the kitchen table chairs. "Where are you going?" Damian asked, alarmed at the sudden change. The air was suddenly lighter, the room brighter. Had something so small as an apology caused so drastic a change?

"We," Dick corrected, turning to face his questioner. "Are going to the docks. Barb texted me earlier today, said that she had received those pictures you took and that she had information saying that another shipment of that same type and description is going to be coming into the docks off Avalon Heights."

"We're going to intercept a shipment?" Damian interrogated, unable to keep all of the excitement from his voice.

"Sometimes the best way to get information is to jump in and take it." Dick confirmed, tossing Damian his own backpack which had been resting on the floor by the leftmost barstool which Damian had claimed as 'his'. Damian stashed his suit in the pack and then the two rode the elevator down, strolled through the apartment's lobby casually and taking a sharp left on the outside of the building. Nightwing had been sure to purchase his loft in a building without security cameras, to make his vigilante habits harder to track. Dick knew where every camera on the block was and, subsequently, knew all their blind spots. One of which happened to be the ally directly next to his building, which happened to house one of his safety closets.

A quick glance around and Dick was punching the code into the keypad cleverly hidden behind a fake brick. The boys were suited up within seconds of the door closing. Dick performed a quick once over of Damian's outfit. Determining that it had sufficient protective qualities Dick announced, "We'll design an emblem for you once we get back tonight. If we're lucky, we might be able to churn something out by the end of the week, get you out of these hand me downs."

Dick thumbed a blue button on the wall to the right of the door. A panel on the floor lifted up, seams appearing where none had been moments ago. "Bruce helped me with his one. A sewage line runs directly under this building. For whatever reason, it was built with all the rest, about seventy years ago, but this one was left unused. As it is, it isn't anywhere on the maps. It runs all the way to 32nd so we'll pop up somewhere along that route and then make our way to the docks above ground." Dick narrated, following the tunnel with a practiced ease that came only with habitual routine.

The two were picking their way through stacks of shipping containers, stealthily making their way to where Babs was directing them, via coms. Apparently it was the second to last dock on the western side of the docks.

Once they had reached a distance Dick determined was ideal recon, Dick and Damian hunkered down on the top of a loading crane which was apparently unoperational and had been left to the side in wait of repairs. Damian wasn't entirely enthused with Dick's choice of perch, but was well used to the collateral which came with partnering with a former circus acrobat.

The first two hours of the stake out yielded nothing more interesting than the squawk of seagulls and the dull roar of machinery in the distance. Dick was just about to call and nag Babs about where she got her information when a figure emerged from the barge which they had been so studiously watching.

Damian pulled a set of binoculars from his tactical belt, zeroing in on the lone figure who was making his way to the dock side of the bow of the ship. "He's making a call." Damian reported, eyes never leaving his target.

"You wouldn't happen to be able to make out what he's saying?" Dick hoped uselessly.

"Not from this far away."

Fifteen minutes later, a functioning crane driven by a thin, seedy looking man came thundering up to the dock. The barge man and crane dude had a brief conversation before the crane worker lumbered back into his rig and began lifting shipping containers at the direction of his companion.

Three containers- all identical to the one Damian had seen the night before-soon rested on the ground to the side of the dock, waiting to be loaded onto semi trailers. The two men left their respective posts and met halfway, conveniently on Dick and Damian's side of the steel containers.

"Shall we go relieve those charming men of their cargo?" Damian asked, ready for a fight.

"Not yet. I have to do things a little differently here than in Gotham." Dick said, still watching the men. "Gotham is lucky enough to have Commissioner Gordon, who's pretty good about running a tight ship. Bludhaven's police force isn't quite so lucky." Dick sniffed, a hint of irritation entering his voice. "Blud's police force is about as corrupt as it gets. The scuzbags down here own at least 50% percent of the force. The other half know what's going on and choose to ignore it. They've got quite a few judges too, and much of the city's elected officials."

"Sounds like a mess."

"It is. It's one of the reasons I chose Blud. It needs a lot of help, but I'm willing to put in the legwork. That's why I joined the force, why I have to start from the bottom and work my way up. It's a chance for me to get a real inside look on what's going on. Who's running what, who I can rely on, who I need to target. I'm trying to keep my head low but being known has one of the only guys who won't take a bribe is not as low key as it sounds." Dick joked without much humor.

"So why are we waiting?" Damian questioned, shifting positions to get more comfortable.

"I want to try to get the drivers too. And if we could get a peek inside those containers, just to prove what we already know is in there, that would be great too. I've gotta make as big a paper trail as possible in case someone on the force is working with these clowns."

"The bigger the paper trail the harder it is to cover up."

"Right. And of course, you and I will be keeping copies of the evidence for ourselves just in case someone 'misfiles' it later." Dick scoffed, using air quotes for emphasis.

"In Gotham Batman and I would have just knocked these buffoons out and called the police." Damian noted out loud.

"Welcome to Bludhaven," Dick said, mocking travel commercials he had seen on TV with a sugary voice, "The dumpster fire sister city of Gotham. If you thought Gotham was bad, you ain't seen nothing yet."

Damian smirked, slightly amused by his brother's antics.

When three men arrived, each driving their own semi rig, Dick straightened, pulling the escrima sticks from the pouches on his back. Damian did likewise with the grappling gun hanging at his right hip.

When the three new arrivals convened at the back with the original two, Dick snapped a few pictures with a quick press to the side of his mask. Damian really needed to have his upgraded. Dick almost did a flip when the barge man opened the back of one of the containers. "Bingo, baby." Dick said to no one in particular, smirk loud and proud as he leapt from the crane, performing two aerial somersaults before landing with his feet on the nearest man's shoulders. A collarbone snapped and then another man screamed as Damian was upon them.

Alone the men might have lasted at least 30 seconds each but together the men were unorganized. Nightwing and the newly minted Flamebird made quick work of them, moving together with a fluidity and an unspoken understanding that would have impressed even The Batman himself. Without having to say it, each knew when to go high or go low, to sweep left when the other was punching right, to duck under his escrima stick or flip over his flash grenade.

The men were down and zip tied to each other within seconds. While Damian stood guard over the newly bruised and aching men, Dick sliced open the top of one of the cardboard boxes waiting in the still open shipping container. Dozens of vacuum sealed packages lay on top of one another. Dick picked up one of the smaller bags, tucking it into his belt for future analysis.

Dick's next move was to reach for his cell phone and dial a BPD detective whom Nightwing had many dealings and who was willing to work with the hero. Nightwing was assured that someone would be responding within minutes and that the drugs would be properly confiscated.

Not long after, Nightwing and Flamebird were scuttling through the abandoned sewer back to the security closet and Dick and Damian emerged, ready for a cold glass of anything and maybe a few celebratory s'mores.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, only two more chapters after this. Hope you guys are enjoying this so far!! Please leave me some comments on what you guys like and what you don’t like.


	8. Chapter 8

Dick and Damian were up late that night, sketching costume designs, talking fabrics and armors, emblems and masks. Dick would have reported that they were even having fun working out the details of Damian's costume, though Damian might verbally disagree.

Damian woke the next morning and stumbled out of bed, halfway regretting staying up so late. He hated being groggy; it threw him off his game. As Damian went in search of breakfast, he found a note stuck to the fridge with a magnet which just happened to have the bat symbol emblazoned across it. Damian rolled his eyes but couldn't keep the corner of his mouth from tweaking upwards. Dick and his flare for the dramatics. That's what you get when you partner with a circus freak who was taken in by a vigilante that dresses like a bat. Damian thought to himself, not displeased with his choice of partner. Life was definitely never dull in his family.

The note read: Hey, kid, sorry I had to go before you woke. Can't afford to be late for work and you looked like you needed the sleep. Anyway, you should forward our finalized plans for your costume to Babs. She's got a guy who's trustworthy and quick. See you tonight.

-D

Damian set the note on the counter, an orange already selected from the fruit basket by the counter. All he could do now was whatever stupid school work his father had assigned for him. With a resigned sigh, Damian shoved his laptop, a notebook and a pen into his backpack. At least a coffee shop would offer a change of scenery and a larger selection of teas.

Damian returned to the apartment at around 4:30 in the afternoon. When the coffee shop had become boring he had found a deli boasting free wifi and taken refuge there, eating a surprisingly edible salad while continuing his work on the laptop. Damian requested the mail for apartment 13B at the front desk, and received a few envelopes which appeared to be bills along with a medium sized cardboard package from the uninteresting front desk employee. Damian read the label which was marked "Mr. D Wayne, The Guest Bedroom, 3472 Willow Street Apt 13B, Bludhaven." It was written in green ink and flowy cursive. Again, Damian rolled his eyes. He knew this to be from Barbara Gordon based on the address and handwriting and knew that she had made a reference to the childish book and movie franchise with which she was obsessed- Harry Potter.

Nevertheless, Damian hurried upstairs to their apartment, eager to unwrap what he knew to be waiting in the package. It was his new uniform shirt and mask. Dick hadn't been wrong-whomever Babs knew was fast. Damian sliced open the package with the nearest kitchen knife, ripping back the cardboard to reveal a red face mask resting atop a shirt of the darkest black and the most eye popping red. Putting the mask to the side, Damian almost reverently pulled the armored shirt from the box, rubbing the fabric in between his fingers. But Damian's focus was, for once, not how durable the material was or how resistant it was to bullets or knives. Damian's eyes were glued to the ruby red insignia which sat in the very center of the chest, just below where Damian's collarbone would be. The symbol was very much like Nightwing's: a very geometric silhouette of a bird in flight. However, where Nightwing's emblem had wings which ended abruptly with a horizontal line, the red wings of Flamebird's symbol began to curve and spark, as if made of true flames.

Damian loved it. For once, he was not wearing the mantle of someone else, assuming an identity that someone else had forged for him. Damian clutched at the new pieces of his costume, sprinted across the room to close the blinds and then to his room where the rest of the costume pieces lay hidden away in a secret compartment in the wall above the nightstand.

Damian spent the rest of the afternoon traipsing around the apartment in his new uniform, testing out the new features of his mask, testing the flexibility of the material and ensuring the durability. Had Dick been there he would have called what Damian was doing "playing dress up" which Damian would staunchly deny. Damian checked the clock every fifteen minutes, excited- almost desperate- to show Dick his uniform.

By 6:00 Damian had taken to standing against the elevator, ear pressed the the seam in the door, listening for the telltale hum of an ascending elevator, or the ring of the operating system which announced which floor the elevator was on. 6:30 came and went with no sign of Dick Grayson. By 7 Damian was pouting on the couch- still in uniform- angry with Dick for being late and making him wait to unveil his new suit. By 7:45 Damian was getting… disquieted. He punched Dick's personal number into his cell phone and listened. Straight to voicemail- very unlike Dick. Grayson was always very mindful to keep his phone charged and on- he knew very well what missing a phone call could mean and was also very aware that Bruce placed tracers in all of the bat-kid's phones. Damian repressed a concerned huff and dialed Dick's work phone. Same result, straight to voicemail.

Now Damian really was worried. Dick was a creature of habit in addition to being very mindful. Being late was not like him and being late without calling to inform him was very unlike him. Damian called Barbara Gordon. Before she could even begin whatever cute and clever greeting she had been about to say, Damian cut her off. "Something's wrong. Richard didn't come home from work and he isn't answering his phone."

"Okay, stay calm." Babs soothed. Damian could already hear her fingers clacking away at her keyboard. "It's likely he was called as back up for something and just didn't have time to call you."

"You don't get it- he's not just not answering. Both of his phones have been turned off." Damian forced through gritted teeth.

"Okay...There don't seem to be any dispatch reports of any priority one, two or three incidents…" Barbara noted, becoming slightly uneasy herself. "Checking local news sources and satellite imaging… Nothing." Finally, apprehension had made it's way to her voice as well. "Oh, shit."

"What?" Damian demanded, clutching the phone tighter.

"I'm scanning darknet chatter. It seems that somebody put out a hit on Nightwing. He's wanted alive," Barbara said, as if that was supposed to lessen the blow.

"Does it say where he's to be taken, if captured?"

A half gasp, half groan before, "Shit, yeah. The piers where you two were screwing up someone's big drug import last night."

Damian released a furious growl. "Did these idiots set a similar price on my head?"

"No."

"Well they're going to wish they had." Damian assured. "Channel three." Damian grunted, before abruptly ending the call.

Damian's blood boiled as he made his way through the city, swinging from rooftop to rooftop, jumping from car to car. Damian used every surveillance software available to him, but was unable to find any men at or around the pier once he arrived. Pressing a small button on the radio receiver in his ear, Damian said, "Oracle. I'm here on the outskirts of the docks, but I don't have any visual on anyone."

"Scanning." She promised. "I'm not picking up any heat signatures on the pier, but I am picking up five or six in the barge's control room. Damian peeked around the corner of the large load of pipes that had been recently unloaded. He could see the control room from where he was, a rather large pilothouse resting on the deck of the ship, surrounded on three sides by blacked out windows-they hadn't been like that the previous night.

"I can't see in."

"There are six heat signatures in the pilothouse. Five standing one sitting. That's all I know. It's possible there are more, down below deck, but I have no way of knowing."

"Understood. Any sign of Grayson?"

"I really can't say. Something on that ship is blocking transmissions, which would interfere with the tracker in his suit."

"So I will just have to see for myself." Damian concluded, creeping closer to the barge.

"I didn't say that. I really think you should wait and let me call you some back up." Barbara suggested.

"I will be fine, I can handle myself." Damian said, repeating words he had said hundreds of times to his father. "Besides, say Grayson is in there. Somebody who puts out a hit on a vigilante isn't likely to be very forgiving. If he's in there, he's in trouble. Imminent trouble. You want me to sit and wait? They could be doing any number of things to him. He's my partner. I will not leave him alone."

"Fine. But if you're not out in half an hour I'm calling Bruce."

"There will be no need. I will rescue Richard." Damian said, cutting off coms. Damian decided that the most strategic point of entry would be a small porthole looking into the floor directly below deck. It was just large enough for a specially trained eleven year old boy to squeeze through and would allow him to get a scope of his surrounding with a lower chance of being spotted.

Using the reinforced knuckles of his gloves, Damian easily punched through the glass, knocking the rest out of the frame with a few sweeps of his hand before crawling through. He emerged in a storage room full of life vests, non perishable food rations, and boxes of ammunition and high capacity assault weapons. Damian moved across the room to a door which lead into the center of the ship. Opening it just an inch, he heard voices not far off. They were speaking Dari- he had been brushing up since his discovery of the container two nights ago- though that was all he was able to tell.

Damian could see no one, so he slid the door open, squeezed through and into the hallway. Damian reached into his belt for a capsule which he tossed at the door upon finding. A pinkish-gray foam spewed from the tiny pellet, coating the bottom half of the door in a quickly hardening sticky residue. After about thirty seconds, the goo had hardened, sealing off the door to anyone who didn't know that it could be dissolved with simple white vinegar. The less guns and ammunition the crew had access to, the safer he and Nightwing would be.

Damian snuck to the room from which he heard voices. The door was ajar and Damian used a mirror to see around the door and into the room. Three heavily tattooed men sat at a dingy table playing poker. Though heavily engrossed in their game, their loaded automatic weapons were not far away. Damian had no intention of leaving them to their game- that would just be asking for trouble later- however he also had no inclination to engage these idiots who would undoubtedly begin firing their weapons and alerting the whole ship to trouble.

So, Damian released two gas pellets into the room, shutting the door firmly. Coughing and a few weak shouts were soon followed by the sound of three bodies collapsing. Damian grinned. Idiots.

Damian didn't encounter anyone else as he crept along the hall toward the stairs. Studying the mainly bare hall, Damian noticed an electrical panel set into the wall a few yards from the stairs. Pulling the small door open, it was obvious that this was the source of the dampener which was making tracking and communication near impossible. Damian wasn't quite sure how it worked, but he was pretty confident he could disable it. Relieving his belt of one if it's many batarangs, Damian sliced through all visible wires, which sparked weakly, before giving the small panel a few vicious stabs. That should do it he thought, turning to the stairs.

A quick sprint up two flights and Damian was just outside the pilothouse Barbara had said held 6 people. The metal, gray door leading into the control room was closed, muffling any noise, but that didn't stop Damian. He spread his first two fingers of his right hand like a peace sign, placing the fingertips of his glove against the door and pressing a button which was hidden by the black fléchette protruding from just above the wrist. This activated a highly sensitive microphone with which Damian was able to hear the conversation going on inside.

"...not sure how Detective Gunsmoke here was able to...escort you to our meeting tonight, but that hardly matters now." Damian didn't know to whom the voice belonged but it was probably the furthest thing from his mind. No, right now his focus was the name which the disembodied voice had mentioned- Detective Gunsmoke. Uncoincidentally the same detective Grayson had said was trustworthy enough to call to handle the large seizure of drugs from the previous night on the docks. Damn it, Grayson. You're too trusting for your own good sometimes.

"Unfortunately, I no longer have use for the good detective, and I am ever so picky about the company I choose." The sound of the gunshot was amplified painfully through the microphone, but Damian refused to peel his fingers from the door, determined to find proof of Dick's well being. He didn't have to wait.

"No, what was that for? He was on your side, brought me here just like you asked." Dick mourned the loss of the man who had captured him for money. It was so like Grayson, Damian had to smile, just a little, fighting hard to ignore the pain in his mentor's voice.

"Yes, well cops have a way of getting on my nerves." The same voice replied flippantly. Wrong move, Damian thought, knowing just how much such a careless attitude would piss Dick off.

Damian heard Dick release an enraged yell, wordless but furious. "You'll pay for that."

"And you'll pay for that threat," the voice taunted. Damian could hardly restrain himself from bursting in the room at the wet sounding thump and the muffled grunt of pain. "One would think that someone of your occupation would know that one's words and actions have consequences. Well, that is what I've brought you here to rectify."

"Go to hell." Dick spat.

The voice ignored him, entering into the irritating narrative that almost all high level criminals professed upon a victory. Now Damian really was grinning. Dick had always taught him to take advantage of moments like this, when the imbeciles were too busy waxing poetic to concentrate on small details like, say, their safety. "You see, business was booming, according to Devlin and his pencil pusher, Mayfield," the voice began triumphantly, referring to the two men Dick had been surveilling when he had first entered Blud.

"And they were right, more people than ever were buying my products…" Damian tuned him out for a minute considering his next move. Damian opened a small screen which was tucked into a compartment on his left arm guard. He typed out a quick message to Babs, requesting the specs for the pilothouse and a location of the men within.

Within seconds, an image flared to life on screen, giving him a real time visual of the men and their placement in the room. The room was larger than it appeared on the outside, with the door placed on the far right, back corner. The helm stood against the front, directly below the windows which Damian had noted were blacked out.

Thanking whomever was listening, Damian found that all five men were congregated on the far left, near the center of the room. Panels and control equipment would partially obstruct their view of the door. They really were idiots.

Damian took time to carefully study the heat signatures which represented each of the people in the room. Clearly, the man strapped to the chair was Dick- and, luckily, he was the only one facing the door. One man stood in front of him, a few steps back but close enough to comfortably narrate. Two others stood against the far left wall, leaning against it. If Damian had to guess, these would be Axel and Elliot. Two other men- armed if the infrared was anything to go on- stood against the back wall, weapons hanging loosely from straps around their necks.

His first instinct was to barge in, siccing all hell on the men who were, at least to some extent, torturing the best and bravest man he had ever met. However, something inside Damian- possibly the little voice in his head that sounded vaguely like a scolding Grayson- told him that he had to do things differently. Damian recalled what Dick had told him so recently, "I have to do things differently here, in Blud…" Flamebird certainly wasn't going to screw up his first official mission in Bludhaven. So, making up his mind, Damian continued recording the conversation still in session.

"...decided to stick your nose where it didn't belong, saving a city that didn't ask for your help. You hero types are all the same. Of course, we managed to stay off your radar for quite some time, until all those deaths in the northeast end." The man sounded irritated. "Bad batch. And you. You couldn't leave well enough alone. So, naturally, I had to step in. You know what they say about when you need a job done.

"This isn't the sort of thing I could trust to a meathead like Axel, or a desk jockey like Elliot. They do well enough at managing the day to day sales and operations on the east coast but… Clearly they're not the brains."

"That would be you and the hag you roped into marrying you, huh? I'm normally the party sort but I don't regret missing the ceremony." Dick taunted, unwilling to be submissive. If he was going down, it wouldn't be without a fight.

An enraged yell was followed by a dull thud which was followed closely by a strained grunt. Damian took this chance to open the door as narrowly as possible then shimmied through, rolling for the nearest control panel to provide him with cover. The highly under trained guards were too busy picking their teeth or staring blankly at their boots to notice and the three drug lords were too busy snickering at a bleeding and battered Nightwing. Damian winced in sympathy but stayed where he was. Though blood caked the side of Dick's face and his breathing was hitched and slightly labored, Damian was sure that his injuries were not fatal, for now. The same remained to be seen for the men who had inflicted said injuries.

Though Damian had no way of knowing, Dick- highly trained as he was- had seen the young boy make his way into the control room and had to try very hard to keep a straight face. Apparently, something of Dick's training was starting to rub off on the young boy. Weeks, even days ago, Damian would have flown through the nearest window fired up and aching for a fight. Of course, this meant that Dick would have to ensure that the focus of all five men was on him, to provide Damian the chance he needed to strike. Dick grimaced. This would not be pleasant for him.

"So Axel was your drug pusher here on the east coast and Elliot ran the books and you even managed to get a few cops on your payroll. Impressive, considering that asshat in the corner looks like he has the IQ of a pencil eraser." Dick mocked, nodding his chin to Axel who, Damian had to admit, looked about as bright as a sack of bricks.

The man Damian assumed to be Mr. Mihn stepped back from where he stood in front of Nightwing, looking at Axel and gesturing toward the incapacitated hero with a lazy wave of his hand, giving him permission. Axel gritted his teeth and lumbered forward, cracking his knuckles and sliding a knife from his waistband. "Wait a minute. Think about what you're doing." To anyone else in the room, Dick appeared to be begging for forgiveness, pleading with the man wielding the knife. But his voice was calm and Dick had tilted his head ever so slightly to Damian's side of the room. The idiot was telling Damian to let him be stabbed. Fighting back the instinct to let a batarang land solidly in the man's skull, Damian watched as he hurtled the knife toward Dick's thigh.

Damian saw Dick's calves flex and his toes stretch and readied a set of bolos in his right hand. As the knife descended toward's Dicks under-armored leg, the young man pushed off the ground with as much strength as his bound legs could generate, simultaneously pulling at the zip ties which confined his arms behind the back of the chair. The knife missed it's mark as the chair upended, still managing to slice into the outer side of Nightwing's upper leg. Before the chair's back had even hit the ground, Damian leapt from where he had been concealed, flinging the bolos at one of the armed men, pinning his arms to his sides, unable to reach for his weapon. The second armed man received a batarang to the shoulder before taking a foot to the stomach. Damian wrenched the gun from his hand even as he fell, disassembling it and spinning for his next target.

Nightwing was now up and freed from his chair, and though favoring his injured and oozing leg, still managed to sweep the legs out from under Minh who clearly relied on bodyguards for his personal defense.

Damian set his blazing eyes upon Elliot as Dick advanced toward Axel. The pencil pusher was surprisingly agile as he managed to duck under the first two punches Damian had aimed at him, even sneaking in a very bony punch to the area near Damian's kidneys. The armor did it's job however, and Damian shouted as he planted an all too eager foot into the jaw of the unfortunate recipient. His opponent officially knocked out, Damian turned to where Dick was bouncing on the balls of his feet somewhat less energetically than was his normal. Dick weaved and dodged as the thick man swung his heavy fists again and again. Though able to successfully keep from being punched, Dick really didn't have the dexterity or stamina in his current situation to do more than defense. Pursing his lips he let lose a sharp, short whistle, a code familiar to both boys thanks to their shared former mentor.

Understanding, Damian took a running leap, launching himself for a collision course with Axel's overly muscled shoulders. At the arc of his leap, Damian extended his right arm, reaching for the escrima stick he knew would sail directly in his path. An almost maniacal laugh escaped him as his fingers closed around the escrima stick and he landed on the shoulders of Axel Devlin, crouching on brawny shoulders. With a satisfied grunt, Damian jabbed one end of the stick into soft flesh of the man's neck, depressing the button which delivered a powerful electric shock into it's target. Axel grew rigid, his muscles tensing from the electricity currently coursing through his body before the charge ceased and he slumped to the ground, temporarily paralyzed.

Damian stepped off, taking stock of the fallen opponents before turning to Dick. His face was paler than normal and his jaw was clenched. "Nightwing."

"Flamebird." The two assessed each other. "Not bad. I've still got it, huh?"

"Oh please, you wouldn't have lasted another five minutes had I not been here to rescue you."

"I would hardly call that a rescue. I had them right where I wanted them." Dick joked weakly, smiling slightly.

"Whatever. We should probably clean this mess up."

"Sure thing, but first-" Dick took a harrowing step forward before the knee of his injured leg buckled. Damian threw a hand out to steady him. "Thanks. What I was saying before my body so rudely betrayed me is that we should probably patch this up," he pointed to his leg, "and call in to let Babs know we're, you know, alive."

"Sit down before you injure yourself further." Damian commanded, already reaching for his earpiece. "Oracle. Blue Cheese for Brains has been found, with only minor injuries. Securing scene and criminals now. Please send a police officer we know for sure isn't corrupt." Damian barked, ending the transmission before Barbara could get a word in.

"Blue Cheese for Brains? Nice. Very original." Dick complemented from where he sat in the captain's seat, already wrapping gauze around the gash on his thigh.

"Shut up." Damian replied, battering at Dick's hands and wrapping the gauze more securely around the wound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You lucky dogs! This is the longest chapter yet! Unfortunately, it is also the second to last chapter. Don’t fear tho! I have the sequel written and will post the first chapter a few days after i post the final chapter of Nightwing and Flamebird!!!  
> Thanks so much to all of my readers!


	9. Chapter 9

Dick sat on the couch, back against one armrest, injured leg propped up on the other. Damian had grumbled half heartedly about having his spot taken but took up residence in Dick's Lazy Boy chair without complaint.

With the help of Flamebird, Nightwing had limped all the way home, too proud to call his motorcycle and ride home. The boys had changed into normal clothes and then entered the apartment building. Dick, under the guise of brotherly affection used Damian as a sort of crutch, hiding his limp quite successfully, but very painfully. Dick had spent the night on the couch- too dizzy and too tired to make it to his room. Damian suspected his brother had a minor concussion, but Dick claimed he was fine and would 'soldier on.'

The next morning Dick had called to inform his sergeant at the BPD that he had a very bad head cold and that he would be out for at least a couple days.

Damian glanced at Dick from his roost in the Lazy Boy. Dick was grimacing and making small adjustments of his leg while attempting not to flinch. Thankfully they boy's quick actions had prevented Devlin from slicing Dick's femoral artery but the damage was still significant, though reparable. Damian got up and walked to the kitchen, searching cabinets until he found the large bottle of ibuprofen. A little more rummaging and Damian was on his way back to his brother, with a small tray, which he set on the coffee table carefully.

Dick's already disheveled hair entangled further as he dragged his face toward the young boy, the back of his head never leaving contact with the sofa. "I brought you ibuprofen but you aren't supposed to take it without something on your stomach." Damian thrust a bowl of cereal into Dick's hands. Knowing Dick was about to protest, Damian intervened, "I will not be taking no for an answer. I have been told many times that I am very stubborn, so I would not fight this."

Dick gave Damian an amused once over, smiling. "Alright, I won't say no then." Dick took the bowl from his brother, spooning cereal into his mouth and crunching loudly. When he was done with his breakfast, Damian took the bowl and placed it back on the coffee table. Wordlessly, Damian passed the bottle of painkillers and a glass of water. Dick popped two pills in his hand and threw them back with a quick swig from the glass. Again, Damian took these from him. "Thanks Damian."

"You would- you have done the same for me." Damian said, shrugging it off.

With a grunt, Dick reached around Damian, pushing the cereal bowl, water glass and pill bottle further down the coffee table and indicating to Damian that he should sit. Damian awkwardly did so, sitting on the edge of the table and eyeing his brother warily. "Damian I don't ever want you to do that- to brush off something you did that is kind or caring, okay? Those things you do are important."

"Okay." Damian replied, unsure of what else to say.

"I say that because I'm about to say stuff I don't think you've heard a lot and I don't want you to downplay it or forget it or make it less than it is."

Dick had never seen Damian shrink away from anything, but the way Damian's shoulders hunched and his head drooped at his words, it was like the boy was trying to retreat inside himself. Dick knew it would be a little uncomfortable for Damian at first, but it would be good for him in the long run. Damian, on the other hand was paralyzed- he had no idea what was happening and he didn't like it.

Dick grimaced, pushing himself into a sitting position- this was not really the kind of thing he wanted to do lying down. "I wanted to tell you that I am very proud of how you handled everything last night, you know?" Damian's eyes were anywhere but Dick's face, but the older man forged on. "Really. That was a really stressful situation and you handled it amazingly, Dami! You called Babs, made a plan, executed the plan and…" Dick's proud-father grin slipped into a more toned down, quietly pleased smile. "And you saved me. Thanks for saving me, kiddo."

All the while Dick said this, Damian's slouch lessened and lessened until his back was straight and his head was up. He was proud but not in the haughty, arrogant way he normally was. He was just pleased to have his brother safe and proud that he could have something to do with it. And pleased that for once, he was being complimented rather than scolded and scrutinized. "I will always come to your rescue, when necessary, Grayson." He responded quietly.

"Same goes for me, pal." Dick said, resting a hand on his shoulder. Unfortunately the moment was harshly interrupted by the shrill ring of Dick's laptop from the kitchen. "Crap. That'll be Dad with his weekly check-in he promised. Go get that computer, would you?" Dick asked, pointing distractedly to the kitchen as he scrambled to get a blanket to hide his injured leg. Damian sprinted to the kitchen and back hurriedly covering a scratch on Dick's forehead by ruffling his already disheveled hair. "Thanks," Dick breathed as he reached to answer the call.

"Dick. Damian." Bruce acknowledged as the image of the two boys sitting side by side appeared on his screen.

"Bruce." They boys greeted in unison.

"I heard on the news that Nightwing and his new partner took down a major drug ring in Bludhaven last night." Bruce stated, trying to sound neutral. Dick knew by the slight rise of Bruce's eyebrows that he was impressed and maybe even mildly jealous.

"That's right, Nightwing and-" Dick stopped and turned to Damian, quirking an eyebrow as if to ask if it was alright to tell their father of his new identity.

Damian nodded to his brother before returning his attention to the screen. "Flamebird." Bruce said nothing, only tightened his lips. Damian fell silent, dismayed by the response. Of course, what had he expected?

"Wait until Clark hears that. He'll have a cow, huh?" Dick prompted, pulling a face at his dad that said, Come on, Bruce, this is what we talked about. Throw the kid a bone.

"Flamebird. Sounds…" Bruce was obviously searching for the right word. Dick crossed his fingers, praying that his father wouldn't screw up the happy mood from moments ago. "Fitting," Their father finished, nodding once toward Damian. A sudden heat rushed through Damian from his head to his toes, a pressure from somewhere in his chest loosening. Finally. "So tell me more about this drug ring." Of course, the moment was over, just like that.

"Damian and I spent the first part of the week reconning." Dick began shifting slightly, leaning toward the computer. He relayed the information that the boys had gathered and what Dick had previously known. Dick left out the part about Damian sneaking out and their argument, but gave Damian credit for the information he had gathered. Everything had worked out well and Dick was pretty sure Damian had learned his lesson. No harm no foul, right? Dick thought.

Dick continued the narrative, telling of their night at the docks, and the busts they had made two nights prior. Bruce didn't do much, other than nod occasionally to let Dick know he was listening. And, as always, studying the behavior of the two young men before him. Dick, as usual, was lively and excited, using his hands to tell the story, eyes alight. Damian, however… he was different. He was… relaxed. Laid back. Something Bruce had thought was impossible (which is saying something, coming from the guy who literally never took a day off). Damian wasn't smiling nor doing anything out of the ordinary, really. Bruce couldn't put his finger on it but even through the screen he could tell that Damian was calm, peaceful and happy.

"...And then I- Nightwing- got a call from Detective Gunsmoke- what an awesome name, might I say- and he told me that he had some information about the drug ring, you know, something important. Told me where to meet him." Dick stopped, furrowing his brow, this is where things got hairy and he wasn't sure how to proceed from here. "I...The minute I saw him there, on the roof where he asked me to meet him, I knew something was off, but I couldn't put my finger on it. By the time I figured it out, his bulldozer of an associate, Devlin was practically on top of me. He's damn quiet for a big guy. Anyway, I dodged the first few blows but he slammed one perfectly aimed fist at the back of my head and...I woke up on the barge tied to a chair." Bruce laced his fingers at that, huffing his disapproval. "Yeah, I know not my best moment." Dick admitted. "Thankfully, Damian here saved the day. Why don't you tell him your side." Dick encouraged giving him a sidelong glance a patting his leg off screen as if to say let's just keep this between you and me, eh?

Damian cleared his throat and looked directly at his father's image on screen. He had given mission reports before but this one felt different, as if so much more was riding on this one. Which, of course, it was. If this didn't go right, he'd be forced to move back to Gotham, living in the shadow of his father. "Dick didn't arrive home at his usual time, for obvious reasons. I called him several times and waited but of course got no response. I contacted Barbara-" Damian coughed a bit, worried his father would be upset with him for not calling him. He decided to continue anyway, saying, "She put her skills to work and…" Again, he came to a part which he was pretty sure Richard would appreciate him glossing over. Bruce was not likely to take the news about a hit on Nightwing very lightly. "And we discovered he was at the docks which we had just busted the night before.

"I arrived at the docks and had Barbara scan the barge." Damian told of how, equipped in his new suit- which also seemed to be a sore subject, if Bruce's minute frown was anything to go on- he had raided the barge, entering below decks and taking out the rest of the crew and the weapons before moving upstairs to where Dick was. Avoiding the part about Dick being stabbed, Damian recounted the fight that ensued, concluding with, "And when Nightwing whistled, I knew exactly what he wanted. I jumped up and the escrima stick was right there and I grabbed it and he went down so hard I almost felt bad. Almost." Damian smirked. Dick leaned away from Damian just slightly, to get a better view of him. The boy was grinning and his chest was puffed out. He had almost sounded like an excited little kid explains a cool fight sequence in his favorite movie rather than a highly trained former assassin describing his latest battle. Dick grinned. He wasn't the only one to notice Damian's contagious excitement. Bruce had never seen Damian so content and happy.

"Sounds like everything went as well as could be expected." Bruce said, which was a close to a compliment as he was going to get. "No injuries then?"

The boys exchanged a quick glance before Dick smiled sweetly, "Nah, we're all good."

"I'm glad to hear it, because Alfred has invited you two over for dinner tonight and you know how scrutinizing he is about that sort of thing." Bruce challenged, always the wiser.

"Okay, so maybe a scape or two. Nothing to worry about." Dick lied.

"And I see you've managed to keep up with your schoolwork so far, Damian." Bruce added, not sure what to say.

"As per our arrangement." Damian assured.

Dick rolled his eyes. These two emoted less than a basket of fruit. If it wasn't so sad it might be hilarious. "Wow, I hate to interrupt this heartfelt moment but Damian and I actually have plans for tonight." He directed toward Bruce.

"What? No we-" Dick smacked a hand across Damian's mouth, shoving him slightly.

"Yes we do, I just haven't told you about them yet. We gotta celebrate our first big victory."

Bruce said nothing for a minute, just watched his oldest and youngest son as they tried to pretend they weren't competitively shoulder-bumping the heck out of each other. "Alfred," He insisted heavily, "Is quite insistent that you two visit, since Damian will be staying with you now." Bruce stated. The nonchalant delivery of such news did nothing to quell Dick and Damian's utter excitement, though they were thoughtful enough not to say as much. Bruce was excellent at masking emotions, but Dick could hear the slight lilt of sadness that had entered Bruce's voice. Despite what he said, Bruce did get lonely and he did need people. "Besides. Titus, Bat-Cow, and Goliath have been very on edge since you left, Damian. I think they miss you." Yeah, it's just them missing you, Damian, Dick thought with a roll of his eyes. He glanced at Damian and the look on the young boy's face said that he too had seen right through Bruce.

"In that case I suppose we should visit. I admit I have been missing them as well." He gave a meaningful look toward Bruce, hoping to silently convey a mutual...something. He then looked toward his brother.

"Hey, no, no no. Don't look at me like that. We live in two bedroom apartment, Damian. I don't have room for a king sized bed, let alone a Great Dane, a cow and a gigantic bat-demon." Bruce smiled a little at that, and Damian pouted. "Alright, Dad. Damian and I have a bit more paperwork to finish up before we go out. I'll probably send it to you tonight, have you look over it before I send it to the police captain and the detective in charge."

"Sounds okay to me." Bruce acknowledged.

"See you tomorrow, Dad."

"See you boys tomorrow." Bruce smiled genuinely then added, "You two make a good team. Congratulations and...well done." He signed off quickly, but not before he got to see the looks of absolute shock on their faces. Priceless.

The two young men sat on the couch, stunned. Slowly, their eyes met before Dick let out an exuberant shout. "He's letting you stay!"

"He said well done!" Damian yelled similarly. Before Dick was quite sure what happened, Damian's arms were around his neck and he was falling onto the arm of the sofa. Dick didn't hesitate to hug the young boy back, as it was a rare occurrence.

Chin propped up on Damian's shoulder, arms still wrapped tightly around his shoulders Dick said, "This is going to be really good, I think. I'm really glad you're staying with me."

Damian squeezed his brother tighter. Finally. For once in his life, everything was going perfectly. He was learning under the hands of someone he could absolutely trust and depend on. Someone who would put his well being before all else, who would bend over backwards to make things easier for him. Someone who would accept him for who he was and not ask him to be anyone else. Finally. He was free. It was enough to bring a tear to his eye, though he rubbed it off onto his sleeve the second it did.

"Thank you for accepting me, Richard. Thank you for believing in me." Damian said into Dick's collarbone.

"'Course, buddy." Dick patted Damian's back a few times before he pulled away. "We should probably do that paperwork, huh?" Dick scrunched his nose.

Damian sniffled once. "Yes, we should."

Damian retrieved his own laptop from his bedroom and the two sat there for a good hour and a half, collaborating and collecting the evidence they had gathered. Damian once again received praise for being smart enough to record the conversation which had transpired in the pilothouse as Dick added that to the long string of jpegs and document files on a flash drive.

"What do you plan to do with this evidence? You said that the Bludhaven police department was about as corrupt as possible " Damian questioned as Dick reviewed all the files one last time.

"Good question. I will be delivering these files to both the captain and the detective, as I told dad. But there will be a note attached." Damian raised a questioning eyebrow, prompting Dick to elaborate. "The note will inform them that this flash drive contains all the information needed for the DA to prosecute Minh and his wife and lackeys and that they are to use this information to do so. If they don't, the information will be 'accidentally' leaked to the press and expose the names of all those who try to cover it up."

"Bold. You're sure it's the best move?"

"It's the best we've got. Besides, I want these guys to know that Nightwing is watching. Let them know their days are numbered."

"What about Detective Gunsmoke?" Damian asked. At this, Dick demeanor changed. His stare bored into his shoes, his posture became stooped, as if an exhaustion and taken a sudden hold of him.

"Yeah, there is information about him too. I told them not to leave it out but that I wouldn't go dragging him through the press. It'll be a small article, they'll keep him out of the narrative as much as possible. The guy clearly had some flaws but he did some good too and…" Dick sighed. "He didn't deserve to die the way he did."

"He delivered you to people who were probably going to kill you." Damian reminded, trying to help.

"I know. I just… I wish he didn't have to die. I wish…"

"You couldn't have saved him." Damian said, attempting to comfort his clearly distraught mentor.

"I know. That doesn't stop me from wishing I had. From trying to figure out what I could have done differently."

"You can't save everyone."

"I've always hated that phrase. We say it all the time in our line of work. And I've always thought it was kind of a bullshit thing to say. An excuse to make it okay, to not always put 110% effort into saving everyone, good or bad. An excuse to not put one's own self at risk to save someone else- even if they are a criminal." Dick said to the floor.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Damian considered.

Dick rubbed a hand across his face before leaning back into the sofa. He shook his head like a dog shaking off water, then clapped his hands, as if trying to snap out of a funk. "Alright, I will deliver this tomorrow before we head to Gotham. Now it's time to celebrate!"

At that moment, a buzz indicated that someone downstairs wanted to be allowed access to Dick's loft via the elevator. "Ah. Right on time." Dick admired.

"What's right on time?" Damian asked, eyeing the elevator warily.

"Go buzz them in and find out." Dick tossed back.

The elevator soon arrived carrying a pimply teenage delivery boy. He passed Damian a drink holder with two large cups and a very large, slightly greasy paper bag. Dick tossed Damian his wallet from across the room and Damian dispensed the proper cash plus a tip. "Thanks little dude. Nice apartment, bro." The kid said before stepping back onto the elevator and riding back down. Damian carried the load back to the living room.

"What is all this?" Damian asked.

"This," Dick began, rising with a pained grunt. "Is celebratory milkshakes and french fries from the best burger place in town." Dick glanced to the balcony. The sun was setting and he could see that there was a slight breeze. "Let's take these outside, 'little dude'."

Damian 'accidentally' stepped on Dick's toes on his way to the sliding glass door in retaliation. Once on the balcony, Dick hopped onto the stone banister which acted as a barrier to prevent people from taking a thirteen story fall to the pavement below. "Ouch, okay, I regret that decision." He decided, his thigh throbbing painfully.

"Would you like assistance down?" Damian was still holding the drink carrier and paper bag.

Dick reached over and took them from the younger, replying, "Nah, not right now. You might have to help me down later though."

Damian shrugged his acceptance of this, leaping nimbly onto the wide stone wall and sitting himself. Dick passed him a large strawberry milkshake and a large order of fries, keeping a chocolate milkshake and the other order of fries to himself. He set the cup beside him and placed the fries in his lap, on top of the paper bag. "Dig in, dude." Dick said, shoving a few fries into his mouth. Damian obliged, picking some fries out of their tray as he examined the skyline of his new home in the fading light.

"The city is almost pretty when the sun sets in that pinky-orange." Dick commented.

Damian 'hmm'ed in agreement around the straw in his mouth.

The boys slurped their milkshakes and munched on their fries, watching the sun set and the light fade, the cars pass far below and the lights flicker on in windows far away.

Dick raised his plastic cup, already half empty. "Here's to being the best." He said, smiling.

Damian reached for his own cup adding, "Here's to being better." The two clinked cups before Dick threw his arm around Damian's shoulder, looking forward to everything that came next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little cheesy? Maybe. Let me know what you thought anyway!  
> This was the last chapter but the next story in the series, Blood Will Have Blood will be posted soon.   
> Thanks so much to all of you who have been following! Please leave me some comments or some kudos (or both)!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! This is my first multi chapter fic about the Batfamily so let me know what you think. I have this written in it's entirety so I'll try to post every few days. It also has a sequel which I will post subsequent to this story, if the response is good.


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